He wondered if she had noticed his little slip in reading her emotions. Then he promptly forgot all about it when she started pointing fingers.
"Watch it," he snapped. "You're sitting on my bike, telling me--not even asking--for the keys so you can take if for a joyride? You didn't even phrase it as a question! Trying to order a complete stranger into giving you their keys. You are a kid! Acting like you're a twelve year old. Of course you had to wait. My bike's got a lock on it."
Clenching his jaw, Xan forced himself to concentrate on his breathing. It was getting harder and harder to reign in his emotions. Her anger, pilled on top of his vexation, was a bad, bad combination. He wasn't one for swearing but this little twerp seemed to bring it out in him. Goddamn, Xan. Take it easy, he told himself, working on containing his ire. Don't lose it. Keep it in check. Fuck, I'm going to need a smoke. Or ten.