Frothing Rage

Caffeine to calm your nerves. A surprisingly common contradiction that not many put much thought into. Missy was one of those people at this moment. She wasn't pinned, but losing In Front of her largest audience ever still didn't feel great. She could have sat through the rest of the show. Then the MenTv Championship happened. Ash Fi; Missy's cool Irish cousin against…her late uncle's best friend. The father of the former champion. On the list of possible mentors Missy had, Figgins was probably laid back. The mentor who tried to instill values of friendly competition to her. He just defeated his own daughter as a surprise opponent and berated her afterward. Sure didn't seem very friendly to her.

All that led to the teen carrying a rather tall double shot Latte. Unfortunate timing for a newly crowned champion who really wanted a post match hot dog. Figgins saw Missy in the crowd and tried to avoid being seen. As if it were a classic game of Pokemon, he saw that imaginary exclamation point appear above her head when eye contact was made.

Jacob Figgins: Hey Missy…you did great out there. Now I know what it looks like. I don't look like a great person right now. But trust me, sometimes you have to lean into the negative parts of things to achieve the positive parts of communication.

Figgins was met with a stare. One that probed for answers. What answers he wasn't entirely sure of. He just knew at the moment that he did not look the greatest in her eyes. Why was there a sudden intensity in her eyes? Why did it feel like that gaze actually burnt into him? And why did it feel like a liquid heat? Figgins looked down at his chest and noticed a dark stain on his shirt. Spatters of foamed milk spackled across him. On the floor by his feet, the sixteen ounce cup rolled away. It was in Missy's hands a mere second ago.

Jacob Figgins: Come on now! That probably costs too much to be throwing around like that! Use your words.

Figgins but his lip immediately after the last sentence. He looked ready to open his mouth for an apology.

Missy Propaganda: A-a-ass h-hole!!

It might not have sounded like it. But that stuttered word exploded from Missy's lips. She even surprised herself with. Her right foot slammed down on the tile as punctuation. She kept that gaze leveled. It certainly seemed to give Figgins pause, more so than the caffeinated projectile even. She raised a single index finger up intently. Using body language to convey that her cousin better not follow. She turned and stomped toward where the rest of the Academy students gathered.

Jacob Figgins: At least I got her talking.