Minx

an impudent, cunning, or boldly flirtatious girl or young woman.

"Do you know why you're here?"

I don't look up. He is just one of many, they're all the same. I resigned myself years ago, that these cut-outs are the price of my existence. The only question is, and it's always the same question, who is he a shill for?

"Ms. Shepard. Do you know why you're here?" The professional tone. He's following the standardized checklist.

Everything has a checklist. Turn off alarm. Check. Brush teeth, check. Drink coffee, check. Everything.

Life is a checklist. Born, check. Teething, check. Speech, check. Language, check. Societal integration, Skip.

If you miss a box, questions are asked. Forms need to be filled. Everything must fit.

"Ms. Shepard. Are you ignoring me? It is in your best interest to -." He drones on. I'm sure he's still speaking, I know what he's saying. What he will say. It has to be in my file. Maybe the cut-outs don't document failures.

"May I ask you a question?" I ask as I look up from my datapad, giving him a dazzling smile. (Smile number 4, for those using checklists). I debate recrossing my legs, but he has to be more frustrated first. It's more effective then.(Lever action 11)

"Certainly, Ms. Shepard. Can I call you Janine?" He gives me a concerned smile. I can't decide if it's professional concern smile 7, or 8. He's trying to look friendly and concerned, I'll say 8.

"Who hired you?" I ask. This is the only question that matters. It determines where this will go.

"Why does it matter, Janine? Oh, going for cozy, and probing. Probing. It's too late to comb my bangs down. Easier to observe. Oh well, furtive glances work. Distraction for him also. I smile. For me. But first.

"Calling me Janine is painful." Set rules now.

"Your name causes you pain?" If he wasn't logging this, I would think his curiosity was genuine.

"No. For you." I lunge across the desk, grab his collar and punch him in the neck. We've just met. I don't want to be rude, but rules must be set. He shoiuld've read my file. I hate that name. If he did read my file, then he's being rude, or obnoxious.

"Ms. SHEPARD! I will have you restrained. That was.. that was wrong and uncalled for." I'm impressed. Usually the Marines are already in by now.

"You can't, and don't have the authority to restrain me. I'm a minor." Dazzling smile 4, and let's add batting eyelashes 2. "You have my file. You know I hate that name. You were rude." Sounding petulant. He'll spend days analyzing that. I'll keep this smile to myself, thank you.

Rubbing his neck, wounded look on his face. "You could have just said that. It's what most people do." I know he's right, but I've tried it that way.

My way accomplishes much more than a few words. It sets boundaries. Society's love boundaries, so this is my contribution. I know I've said this, he should've read my file. And, it's a great test. You learn a lot about a person who's just been a victim of wanton violence.

"Look, Mr, -"

"It's Doctor. Dr. Kirkwood." I smile, genuine. He's got balls. I politely let him know I don't like rudeness, and he interrupts me. This one's a toughy. I should reinforce how I feel about being rude, but I admire his balls. No, I don't actually admire his balls. Or any balls for that matter. I think they're kinda ugly. But, their buddy is kinda cute...

"My apologies, DOCTOR. Kirkwood. Before I was rudely interrupted, and I think we've been over how I feel about that. You're - " Un-fucking-believable. I saw him start to open his mouth to speak. He's going to interrupt me again? "You were NOT going to interrupt me again, were you?" The ice I felt, in my voice.

He looked at me before speaking. I nodded. (Curt-number 3). "No. I was going to apologize, but caught myself." He seemed proud of himself. This proves my point. If I had just asked him not to call me Janine, he would have felt comfortable in interrupting me. My way is kinder, I don't feel the need to break his nose.

"May I continue Doctor?" Neutral. I can master all vocal tones. Doesn't mean I necessarily feel them. The point of language is to communicate thoughts or ideas. Adding feeling to your vocal tones is just nuance. Plus, monotonic speech scares the crap out of some people.

"Who do you represent, Doctor?" We'll try this again.

"I'll answer your question, if you answer mine. Deal?" He sounded pretty sincere. Probably felt the need to get the conversation back on track. I looked him over again. Fairly young, not bad looking actually. Most likely used that to his advantage. Nothing wrong with that. I do it all the time. Everything is an asset.

"Are we bargaining, Doc?" I rubbed my hands together. And add Gleeful look 2. "What are the stakes? The incentives?"

Small cough. "I believe I already stated that, Ms. Shepard?" He paused. "Is there another name I can call you by? Ms. Shepard feels too formal." Oh, My. He is quite confident in himself, isn't he.

"To be honest, no I don't know why I'm here. I was in filth period for about fifteen minutes, when your friends outside showed up, and - " I raise my arms straight up. "Tada. Here I am." I had no idea why I was here. But, as I said earlier, this is the price of my existence.

"Ms Shepard, I've been asked to evaluate, and recommend a plan to help with your, shall we say, anti-social behavior." Oh my god. He's using gravitas and professional tone. I fucking hate new schools. I wish that bitch could keep a posting longer than six months.

"You get my file?" I scrub my face with my hands. Shit, been here a week, already getting the drill.

"Yes. Ms Shepard. I received your file from your last school. I haven't read it yet." I arch an eyebrow at that. Arch number 2. Oh, good. Doctor - I will look at this from a whole new angle, and fix it- Kirkwood. Oh fucking yay.

I get up "Call me once you've read it." I grab my bag, start towards the door.

He stood up. "SIT DOWN. Ms Shepard." Did he just yell at me? This stupid fuck just yelled at me. I audibly sigh. Surprisingly unbidden. I only have two more years of this. I'll still have bullshit, but the Alliance will pay me for this.

I stop, turn around. Look at him. "I'm sorry. Did you just yell at me?" He has a smug and commanding look. Oh, dude.

He pointed at the chair I was in earlier. "You will sit down, Ms Shepard. You will answer my questions, and you will quit your attitude. Understood?" While he was talking, I opened my bag, got out my lipstick. Applied a coat. I was willing to work with him, but not with his 'tude. I really was.

"You have your resume prepared?"

"You don't intimi – wha-?" I had applied my lip stick on heavy. Once satisfied, I walked over, leaned down, smeared my face over the front of his pants, hence the sputtering. I reapplied, while his face went through various shades of red. I grabbed his head, and smeared my lips over his.

"What the -" He was really sputtering now. I put everything back in my bag. "You won't..." He was droning again. I walked back over to him. "Ready?" The smile I gave him was genuine. I hate rudeness. Good, he looked baffled.

I ripped the front of his shirt, then ripped mine. Well, this''l sting, then smacked my face on the desk. Fuck! That stung. Yeah, he couldn't move. Violence usually quiets people. And most have no clue how to respond when you apply it to yourself.

"You should've read my file."

I ran my hand across my face, smearing the blood over it. Then I smeared it over my tits. Then the coup-de-gras, over his shirt and pants. He was just staring. Fuck, doc, have a sense of self-preservation.

Then I screamed.

A/N: Yeah, I know. Not the usual Shepard. Just something I felt compelled to write.

Thanks for your time. I hope this didn't waste too much of your time. Thanks again.

Please R&R, If you can.