complicated;;

[...]

APONI: What do you want, Tristan?

APONI: Why are you really doing and saying all of this?

APONI: Sure.

APONI: You don't need to say it. It's obvious.

APONI: I know I don't act like your typical princess. I get it.

APONI: I get you don't understand it, or think it's foolish.

APONI: And that's fine.

APONI: You don't even like me.

APONI: I don't need your help.

APONI: Excuse me?

APONI: You tell me I'm not "princess-like," all the fucking time, you make fun of me, hell, at your family's little party you had me dance with you only because you knew it'd make me uncomfortable.

APONI: Take your pick.

APONI: No, you idiot. I meant what did I ever do to make you want to fucking mess with me do damn much.

APONI: And . . . stop saying I'm hot.

APONI: Why? What the fuck have I EVER done to you?

[...]

[...]

APONI: Okay . . .

[...]

APONI: Is this fun for you?

APONI: Is that why you do this?

TRISTAN: Is what fun? Getting under your skin? Sometimes.

APONI: Just go away, Tristan.

APONI: Just go away, Tristan.

APONI: Oh my god.

APONI: Go find someone else to fuck.

[...]

APONI: Right. So, go fuck yourself.

APONI: Where in the hell did this even come from?!

APONI: Choke.