"Given what you've done to me before, I'd say that ripping my throat out is understating things a bit." Mark refered, of course, to the picture the goddess had posted in her blog at one point. It was a blurry picture, yes, and their faces had been blacked out, but Mark could still remember the anxiety of that day, denying and covering her still budding relationship with Glibt.
Of course, some would have argued that the need for anxiety had been nil. All she had to do was admit to himself and the rest of the world, the life she was living. It was unlikely. Not during this administration.
"I don't wear red," she said, reaching reluctantly for the blue dress. "My brother... that's his color. And, this looks kind of tight." She would swear to her dying day that she didn't really have that much of a stick up her ass.
"I know politicians are supposed to enjoy beating around the bush, but I hate it. I'll try on these... things, but I want to know what's going on."