[ there's a pressure in her chest. 'please tell me...' following by a drop in her stomach. the sudden fear and hope and anticipation at what she's supposed to blindly do -
(she's not afraid. through it all she has not been afraid of him for anything he'd have her do however unknowingly. she's not. she's full of hope for so many reasons and that's frightening. she wants rebekah's compulsion to work.)
but nothing comes of it and instead she's faced with a tightness in her throat. it's frustration, and her teeth grit at it, at him. one of the fun parts of being a vampire, she's found, is how overwhelming already overwhelming emotions can be. damon beckons a whole slew of them.
(she's not mad at him. they are what they've always been. she's upset. she's upset for a list of reasons that fill her with a kind of anger and combination of emotions that she can barely sort through.)
she sighs, scoffs; her amusement is pained and witless. she hasn't been trying to reach out to him. she's wanted to, and she feels every inch of that desire now, looking at him. ] I'm not mad, Damon. [ no, she's much more than that. ]