It was almost surprising that the one that made her upper lip curl wasn't Aiden, the professional asshole, but Oliver, the nice guy. Glaring at him with the sort of ferocity that betrayed her connection with her fable, Joanie let out a low sound of irritation that was almost a growl. "I'm not a character, and neither are you. We're people thrust into a ridiculous situation, and we happen to have adopted the memories of these characters." Her voice wasn't quite a yell, but it edged dangerously close. "We are not them," she snapped, withdrawing to lean against her arm of the couch, body angled as far away from Oliver's as she could manage.
As the movie opened, Joanie took a long swig from her beer. The bubbles calmed her slightly, and though she didn't feel bad about the way she had responded, she at least had cooled off enough to unfold slightly.
Gesturing to the TV with her free hand, she glanced down at Aiden. "Look how cool he looks, Aiden. Why can't you be more like him?"