The fedora had been placed onto the table. The half-neanderthal slumped in her seat, her brown poncho sprawled over the wooden bench. As shifting shades of dim sunlight floated around, she felt her pulse struggling to calm. In the cold corner, her veins throbbed. Sweat steadily coated her large forehead.

Felicity had been, well, triggered.

A childhood of being subjected to racism caused the explosion. Yet even here, as her heartbeat stampeded, her consciousness steadily creeped along, like the floating shadows around the bar. Really, there was no need for the overreaction of the year about a mild, harmless insult. Being called a weirdo was quite tame compared to some of those other names. As her consciousness whispered into one ear, her rage screamed into the other. The small devils on her shoulders begged and pleaded, shouted and argued. She was stubborn. She almost refused to let herself admit she had been in the wrong.

Her peridot eyes glared holes into her pale, sweaty hands which clasped each other on the wooden table. As dust particles floated around, everything and everyone else in the bar felt distant. Millions of miles away, divided by an invisible glass wall. All the voices felt slurred and echoed. Their frames were blurred to her, so locked inside. She was not even in the room it seemed, she was lost inside her head. As the demons on her shoulder squabbled for scraps of her mind, she heard a single voice stand out. Familiar, it drove her to snap out of her daze. Shifting from freezing ice to boiling lava, her head flashed to lock their eyes in a millisecond. Her body jolted, toxic blood still pumping at light speed from that confrontation. Yet, as the raven lady asked her a question, the magma cooled back into stone.

Shoulders still tight, body still cramped together; yet her shaking eyes lost their intensity. She melted. She spoke in a soft yet stressed tone. “I-I’m so-orry for my-y b-behahavvior, I-“

The disturbed child pulled a hand up, elbow resting against the table. Her forehead met her palm in exasperation, “-I- have no-no excuse.” Her teary eyes closed. I have anger issues through the roof!

First she was cheerful, then enraged, then guilty in a matter of minutes. Was she neurotic or insane? Was the anger even a natural part of her? Or was it a byproduct of her powers? Was it both? Was it her fault?

Just after stating her crazed apology, her eyes flashed open when she remembered the crow girl’s question in the edges of her mentality. She pushed her arms up. Leaning against the wall, she rubbed her face as she spoke, “I grew up on the opposite side of the civil war. I could say what’s going on in Concordia, but I know nearly nothing about Radasanth.”

After holding her hands on her face for several seconds, she pulled them down. “Didn’t you say y'were looking for a giant?”

She had to repay Crow Lady for her outburst. As far as Felicity was concerned, watching Ashla track and beat up crime lords enough times taught her a thing or two about detective stuff.

- Then again… there was that whole beating up part of what Ashla had done.

A nervous chuckle burst from the red faced teen.