“Don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what?” she asks, peering at me with worry etched into every feature on her face.

“Fear a name,” I state, and her head rears back, eyebrows pinching as she frowns at me.

“I’m sorry?”

“If you’re going to be a raging bitch, then be a raging bitch. Don’t hide your true colors out of fear. That’s more distasteful than my dirty boots on your untouched floor.”