This hit too close to home, and the anger that welled in her eyes made that evident.
“You just got here, right? But you’re going to let him tag you like an animal in the jungle?! That’s not fair! That’s stupid! That’s… That’s…”
She suddenly slammed her palm flat on the table.
“…bull shit!”
If only her dad could see her now. It was the first time she swore in public, and Creed missed it.
Clarice pushed herself back from the table; the chair made a second annoying screech against the floor. She wrapped her purse strap across her shoulder and shook her head in protest.
“I’ve been in this house longer than you, and nobody told me they were going to put any monitoring devices on me. What is this, jail?”
In a hurry, Clarice grabbed what was left of her breakfast, gobbled it down and wiped the bits of sauce on her fingers with a nearby napkin before smoothing the wrinkles out of her dress.
“Where did he say he was going?” she asked Victor rhetorically. “Scotty, he said? That’s Mr. Summers’ office!”
The girl quickly turned towards the door, ready to confront the Canadian.