If there was one thing she wasn't expecting, it was Aaron Lavigne claiming fault for her bruise. It sort of felt triumphant. Here he was, admitting that he'd been to blame. Only, Rielle couldn't let him do that. Because he wasn't. And he'd been nice enough to, at least, not rub it in her face that she'd been robbed.
"It's not your fault," she sighed, falling back into a nearby chair with a not-so-ladylike slump. "If anyone, it was the sexy bum's fault. But I'm pretty sure it was mine." She crossed her arms over her chest as if this would protect her from feeling vulnerable. It didn't.