The problem with Weetzie was that her size didn't mean much; she was feisty. She'd spent a good part of her youth in punk clubs in LA, kicking people in the mosh pit and then batting her lashes and snapping her gum at them when they got angry. She could be quite a spitfire when she wanted. Of course, that didn't mean she could take someone who did chin-ups and boxing as hobbies, but it meant that she would give it her best shot if it came to that.
Still. Weetzie slowly unfolded her legs, raising up from her sitting position. The patient was violent and had tendencies, as well as a history in the hospital for her outbursts; if she did decide to attack, Weetzie wanted to be on her feet for it.
Gracefully she rose to her full height, definitely not very impressive, and arched her brow. Nothing about her seemed confrontational, just unafraid. She didn't show nervousness, though her heart was beating like a hummingbird's.
"I didn't threaten you, Faith. I gave you a warning. There is a difference," she pointed out, keeping her voice non-accusatory. "You use the public board to instigate problems. That isn't what it's there for. And they can revoke the privilege you know... make it so that you can't leave notes for anyone. It's kind of lonely in here without friends," Weetzie noted, tilting her head slightly. "I don't want it to come to that. But you have to stop."