[She's not sure what to say about that. She-ra means nothing to her. Nor does the gas, save for the obvious effects on Catra.
She starts to scribble something else down, and the napkin rips. She scowls, starts over, then just flings the pen down and shreds the entire thing, flinging it into the air. She rolls over, facing the wall, and wraps the blankets tight around her so that the shivering doesn't tell as easily.
If she weren't so inadequate, things wouldn't've gotten this far in the first place. And now the number of wounded keeps climbing because she couldn't take care of her own messes.]
no subject
She starts to scribble something else down, and the napkin rips. She scowls, starts over, then just flings the pen down and shreds the entire thing, flinging it into the air. She rolls over, facing the wall, and wraps the blankets tight around her so that the shivering doesn't tell as easily.
If she weren't so inadequate, things wouldn't've gotten this far in the first place. And now the number of wounded keeps climbing because she couldn't take care of her own messes.]