"Only when I want to be," Mac replied. It was true, her room was, for the most part, tidy. Nearly everything in it was brought with her and the rest accumulated from Locks. Her sheets were expensive and comfortable, something she had brought with her. She also had a vanity with a nice mirror and a chest of drawers on the other wall. Simple, but luxurious at the same time.
"Well let me set the record straight, he didn't go on guard duty as he was told, then he called me a cunt. I hit him first," Mac said, going through her side table drawer for some herbal smoke. Her ribs were starting to throb a bit and this was the best painkiller she could get now-a-days. She sparked up a joint and inhaled before lifting her shirt up in front to show the fading bruised of her once broken rib. "I had a dislocated shoulder, and couldn't put it back on my own, because apparently I had a broken rib," she explained, exhaling some smoke.
Mac went on to explain as many of the blows as she could remember. It happened fast and slow at the same time in Mac's head, but she talked about it as much as she could. When the story was over, her joint was out and needed to be re-lit. "Want some?" she offered before striking it up again.