Baba closed her eyes again, wishing away the blooming feeling in her. She knew it; she'd engendered it before in others when it was useful. She'd nurtured it in idiots' hearts. She'd used this very emotion against others, so she knew exactly what was going on. The fact that that ugly little monster had done it to her...
Her head tipped forward, and she tried focusing on anything but the man not far off. A great deal of her mind was preparing itself for the mutiny; it wanted to run with the emotion. Her soul had missed that emotion for some time, and it wanted to be free. All she had to do was wait it out. Surely, she could just sit here; it'd fade.
Her hand rested on her knee, and it felt wet. That rebellious part of her took the opportunity of curiosity to open her eyes, which was a bad idea because as soon as she looked at her knee, she peeked up at the man. Her lips pursed slightly, and she looked as if she were ready to cry. It hurt, her knee. She needed help. His help. Shit. It's happening. She was going to find the heart of the City, and she was going to rip it out with her bare hands.