The vision of a snarling badger slid across her eyes, then - a wounded creature, lower paw in an iron trap, alternately trying to shake itself free and to defend itself from that which approached it. It was no subtle thing, the vision.
She was hurting other people. That, more than anything, cut through her anger. She leaned her shoulders against the fridge and pressed her tongue to the roof of her mouth. Her fingers clutched the sides of the cold, white metal behind her. She was hurting other people. It wasn't right. And it was right that Morpheus come to stop her.
Nanshe never could hold onto anger very well. But when it began oozing away from her control again, the clog in her throat wasn't yet pain; it was fear for what the anger would leave exposed when it was gone. Shakily, she crossed the cramped kitchen and collapsed on one of the rickety stools pulled up against the wall in the corner. For want of something to do with her hands, she grabbed the first thing in her line of site - a pepper shaker in the shape of a tulip - and began twisting it in her hand.
"I'm sorry," she said at length. "I'll behave. Were they yours, the dreamers? Are they close? Did you get them settled? I'm sorry, I didn't mean to cause more..." A sigh slid out between her words, then. "...work for you." And a pause, a swallow. "I am sorry, Morpheus. I didn't want to snap at you."
At no time did she look up at him, except for just that moment. Then down at the pepper shaker again.