#allison;interactions

Pale eyes take in every possible exit; the man who has her boxed in against the wall reeks of overconfidence and speaks like something out of the smut novels her and her friends had coveted in high school. She’d already tried so push him away, but he’s got at least fifty pounds on her, doesn’t budge, and now has one meaty hand tight around her wrists. A stupid mistake, on her part. “I already told you, I’m not interested!” She remembers the self defense Claire had pounded into her head, and stomps heavily on the man’s foot. The pain causes him to stumble back a few steps, cursing lividly, and she uses the distraction to shove past him. Allison wasn’t an outgoing person by any means, but she wasn’t about to let that man just do whatever he wanted, either. A hand on her shoulder halts her, and she turns warily, haf expecting some sort of punishment.

“I told you NOT to touch me. You want some little weakling, go mess with one of the others. But you don’t touch me.” She hissed, standing over the woman who’d not learning the meaning of the word ‘no’ as a child. Allison knew the target she presented- the clubhouse was overrun with petite brunettes after all, why wouldn’t she be any different from her timid counterparts? Too bad for them that she’d had the childhood she had, learning to grow thorns where petals were meant to be. The lightly bleeding woman certainly hadn’t expected the fire of Allison’s nail raking across her perfectly done up face, nor the knee to the solar plexus. She looks up from her would be assailant, sky blue eyes narrowed in mistrust. “Aren’t you going to go and tell on me? Captives aren’t supposed to fight back, right?”