Cersei was accustomed to being talked to with respect. With fear, even. Especially the last few years, nearly everyone in the seven kingdoms either hated her, feared her, or both.
They knew The Mountain would surely rip them apart were they to speak even slightly out of line to her, and they'd all seen the fates that had befallen anyone who dared to rival her in a quest for power.
So of course, because fate could be an utter bitch, the first person she came upon in this world? Would be Rachelle Martin-Bale.
"Fuckin' hell, bitch! Use your goddamn indoor voice! Some of us are fucking hung over right now!"
Yeeeeep. She was hung-over. In the evening. Why? Because she'd beenout drinking with goddamn Jessica Jones until damn-near morning, then came home and fell asleep. She wore dark sunglasses (because while evening was here, there was still a LITTLE BIT OF SUN, goddammit, and that was too much), black leather pants, and a vintage Boston Celtics jersey with Larry Bird's name and number on it.