[ Burn. Elena lifts her eyes forward, angry and trying to visibly not be, not to mention this time actually trying not to look over.
Maybe not angry. Maybe not entirely that. That much at all.
Like it's been said: that's not to say this isn't working at all. Rebekah knows how to get under her skin. Rebekah has the ammo to do so. But she doesn't have to put up with it.
Elena turns her way. ] I get it, okay? You thought we were friends. [ The words are honest, perhaps too honest, and her expression is too hard. She thinks back to Rebekah on the floor, crying. Rebekah, in front of Stefan's mirror, crying. The anger, the grief, the rage she witnessed, knows, feels on so many levels of her own.
She didn't mean to wield it, but she did. (Maybe she did mean it, in the end. But that doesn't mean she liked it.) ] Maybe we could have been... if we didn't meet the way we did, and you didn't start by attacking my friends. [ js js. Whatever part Klaus played in it... ] I was protecting the people I love. [ But that doesn't make it better, or right, even if she had every reason not to trust Rebekah. In the end... ] And you were too. I took that from you. I get that. [ More than anything, she gets that.
She moves, lifts her arm out in a flippant proceed sort of gesture. ]
Say whatever you want, it's not going to change the facts. Does this just make you feel better? [ Because nothing will satisfy, right? Elena knows that's it. ]