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Jas awoke the next morning feeling warm and cozy. She didn't open her eyes, relishing the feeling. Her stomach rumbled slightly, reminding her she hadn't eaten in a week. She frowned. She would need to find some food soon; she was steadily getting weaker from not eating. Reluctantly, she opened her eyes and sat up.
She blinked at her surroundings. Sunlight streamed through a window next to her bed, partially illuminating the soft bed she lay in. The events of yesterday came back to her- getting caught by the Ministry, getting dragged off to Hogwarts, and finding out Snape was supposedly her father. Several thoughts crowded her brain at once. Jas stared at the window. She could have sworn Snape had led her into the dungeons of the castle- what was a window doing in her room? And what was she going to do today? Where was Snape?
And, most importantly, where was breakfast?
Jas slipped out of her bed and padded into the bathroom connected to her bedroom to wash up. Once she had showered and brushed her teeth, she slipped back into her clothes from yesterday. She now noticed her clothes appeared to have been cleaned and repaired; they lacked the stains and rips they had previously had on them. She was torn between wondering when this had happened and mulishly thinking to herself that she could have easily done so herself if she had her wand.
The door to her room opened silently and she wandered out into the main room of SF's quarters. She found him sitting at the table in the room, reading the Daily Prophet and drinking coffee. "Er- hi," she said, wondering if he would have to come with her to get breakfast. She decided he probably would, since she certainly did not remember the way back to the Great Hall. She needed a map of this impossibly large castle, although she could not even imagine how she would begin to draw one, with all the moving staircases.
SF set his copy of the Daily Prophet aside slowly and looked up at her. To her great alarm, she saw he was wearing a very malevolent expression. What had she done?
"Jasmin," he said, fixing a Death Glare on her, "I was just planning on waking you."
Had she slept in too long? Couldn't he have just woken her earlier? "Um, would I not wake up earlier?" Jas asked, puzzled and grasping at possible answers to his controlled fury.
"Oh, no. I did not attempt to awake you earlier. It is undoubtedly a good thing you did not wake up earlier, in fact. Your health would undoubtedly have been in considerable danger." SF said this all very calmly and he smiled at her unpleasantly. Jas felt rather ill. She thought she would have preferred him if he was shouting at her. At least she would have known what was wrong.
"So- is everything okay?" Jas asked nervously. Breakfast seemed out of the question at this point.
"Absolutely not," SF said coolly, "But that is of little matter. You will need to eat breakfast so we can go to Diagon Alley. There is much to do today."
What was going on? "Okay," Jas said hesitantly. At least breakfast had been mentioned. Although he had also said that things were most definitely not okay.
"Sit," SF said shortly, gesturing to a chair across from him at the table. Jas crossed the room and sat. He flicked his wrist and a plate of eggs, bacon, and toast appeared in front of her, with pancakes on the side. She smiled in spite of herself. Whatever she'd done to annoy SF this time- had she somehow annoyed him by sleeping?- he still was still clearly not choosing to take it out on her by starving her. Although a part of her did worry how exactly he planned on taking it on her instead. Her foster parents had always been wary of what they did to her- not feeding her, smacking her a bit, and locking her up were the most popular. They could only beat her if it didn't leave marks, because child abuse laws were thankfully strict these days. She considered that a wizard could easily beat her then vanish the traces of the beating. She hoped this was not SF's plan. She did not fancy getting in a tussle with him- he looked physically strong and had already demonstrated his magical strength.
As Jas was polishing off her pancakes, her eyes fell upon something that made her gape in horror. How had she forgotten?
Lying underneath a thick book on the table, the Ministry seal on an envelope was just visible. Did the envelope contain the records Kingsley had promised to send? It would certainly explain SF's bad mood. Although, she thought rather petulantly, Kingsley had said that SF wouldn't have to pay for the property damage-
"Either chew or swallow. Leaving your mouth hanging open with food in it is most unattractive," SF remarked, not even looking up from the newspaper that he had continued reading while she ate. "And yes, that envelope does contain the records Kingsley spoke of. We will be discussing those, don't worry. It will have to wait until later, however."
How does he do that? Jas thought, glaring at him. She really needed to use a library so she could research this mind reading business. That is, if SF didn't murder her for her past misdeeds. She found she suddenly didn't have an appetite. SF seemed quite angry. The more she was around this man, the more she found herself thinking she shouldn't cross him.
But she still couldn't see how she would avoid crossing him with all these ridiculous ideas he had about her following orders.
"Lovely," Jas finally croaked, ignoring the prickle of fear his words had brought her. "Shall we go to Diagon Alley? What are we getting there, anyway?"
SF didn't answer; he simply pushed back his chair and stood up. He glanced at her briefly before turning and walking to the door and opening it to reveal a stone wall. Jas trailed after him forlornly. He clearly did not calm down easily. She wondered what precisely the records said.
I'm sure I'll find out soon enough, she thought gloomily.
Diagon Alley was bustling with people, even early in the morning. SF had sidealong Apparated her directly in front of Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. She was impressed again. Many witches and wizards didn't even feel comfortable enough Apparating themselves; only powerful witches and wizards could perform sidealong Apparation. SF opened the door for her and herded her inside the shop where a collected-looking witch in immaculate robes was straightening out a rack of dress robes.
"Madam Malkin," SF said, inclining his head slightly.
"Hello, Professor Snape," Madam Malkin said with a polite smile. "A student to be fitted?"
"Yes," SF said brusquely. "Can you get her fitted for a school uniform? She'll need the usual set. I should be back shortly." Jas frowned. SF clearly didn't care to broadcast that he had a daughter. Was she that bad or was he, like Jas, not entirely certain that she was his daughter?
"Of course, Professor," Madam Malkin agreed. She helped Jas up onto a dais in front of a mirror, where another witch began taking her measurements. It wasn't until she heard the front door of the shop slam that she realized SF had left. Jas stood with her arms held out, feeling rather downcast. Did SF have to be so mean? She hadn't even known he could be her father when she did all those things the Ministry was complaining about. And most of them had simply been necessary for survival. Or she had thought so, anyway.
The witch taking her measurements pulled a black robe off one of the many racks in the store and offered it to Jas. She pulled it over her head and the witch promptly began fitting the robe to Jas, instructing her to hold out her arms once more. The witch bustled around her, using her wand to let out fabric here and take in some there. Jas wondered where SF had gone. Hopefully somewhere that would improve his mood. After what seemed like ages, the witch finally told her she could put her arms down.
Just as Madam Malkin was packaging her robes and a single black witch's hat, SF reentered the shop. He still appeared to be in a foul mood. "How much?" he asked Madam Malkin, pulling a pouch out of his pocket.
He quickly counted out the amount Madam Malkin named and they left the shop. As they were leaving, a thought struck Jas. SF had to pay for her things. Without help. This was unusual to her. All of her foster parents received a stipend from the government for housing a foster child. It wasn't much, she knew, which had often led to the fondness many of her foster parents had developed for depriving her of food as a manner of punishment. But even a small stipend was better than nothing. She felt rather guilty for costing SF money.
"Er- thanks for- for the robes," Jas stuttered nervously as SF held the door open for her.
SF gave her an odd look but did not respond. She was beginning to wonder if she could judge how angry he was based on how much, or rather, how little, he said. Last night he had been quite angry with her for her cheek and had been rather monosyllabic. Today, he was livid with her and was more or less mute.
The number of people in Diagon Alley seemed only to have increased while Jas had been in the shop. Witches and wizards pressed around SF and her on all sides, some hurrying past, others standing off to the side trying to sell things. SF grabbed Jas' wrist and swept through the crowd with her in tow.
Jas was not sure how he did it, but by some manner or another SF parted the crowd apparently effortlessly. At first, she had been annoyed when he took her wrist- she did not need for someone to hold her hand; she was not a child, after all- but since SF walked so quickly and the crowd seemed to want to instantly close over the gap SF made in it, it was very difficult to follow him, so she became less resentful of the manner in which he was towing her around.
They stopped by the Apothecary to get potion ingredients, a cauldron, a set of scales, a few crystal vials, and dragonhide gloves; they went into Flourish and Blotts to buy a variety of books, parchment, quills, and ink; they went into a strange little shop with no sign to buy Jas a telescope, a school bag, and a trunk to put all of her things in. SF paused outside Eyelopes Owl Emporium and Magical Menagerie. He turned to Jas and glared at her inexplicably.
She blinked. Her arms were still sore from carrying around all of her things. She had finally been able to put them into the trunk SF had bought for her. It was quite a nice trunk; Muggles would not notice it and it even followed her around when she asked it to so she didn't have to drag it about. Fidgeting under his glare, she wondered what she could have possibly done to annoy him now. They hadn't said a word to each other since they'd left Madam Malkin's and Jas was beginning to feel rather lonely. She'd been- to put it mildly- horrified at how much money he was spending on her. She knew it was only the necessities, but she was simply not accustomed to people spending their money on her. Even at Beauxbatons, she'd received a stipend from the school for 'fiscally-challenged students.' Actually, the term was 'under-privileged children' but Jas hated that term. It made her sound like a charity case. Which, incidentally, she was, but there was no need to go around sounding so pathetic.
After glaring at her for a moment longer, SF grabbed her wrist once more and wrenched her along. She was beginning to grow faintly annoyed at him, even though her mixture of gratitude, abash, and horror at him buying so many things for her was keeping her anger at bay. She hoped they did not have much more to do. She was getting hungry and rather tired. Jas hated shopping, perhaps because she had never had any money of her own to shop with.
Although there had been the money she'd illegally created, but she'd used that strictly for emergency food purposes.
SF took her into a more secluded alley and just as she was about to step closer to the pile of rags laying at the end of the alley- she had a sneaking suspicion it was a human- she felt the familiar sensation of being sucked through a tube as SF sidealong Apparated her away. If she had been able to sigh while enduring the unpleasant feeling of Apparation, she would have sighed. He couldn't have even warned me? she thought irritably. Git.
She landed a bit unsteadily on a road in Hogsmeade. She supposed this meant their shopping trip was over. Slightly alarmed, she looked around and was relieved to see her trunk sitting near her on the ground. She'd forgotten about it for a moment. SF must have Apparated it along with him. She told the trunk to follow her and turned around to see SF striding down the road, already a good ten feet ahead of her.
Jas ground her teeth in frustration. Part of her was tempted to run off and escape from SF. In fact, she'd been contemplating it the entire time they'd been in Diagon Alley. However, while she'd been on her own, she'd been spectacularly underfed and in generally bad health. Whatever food or amenities she had managed to obtain for herself she had obtained by using less than legal methods. Living on her own had been incredibly difficult, not to mention uncomfortable. It would be wholly unwise to attempt to do so again so soon after her first attempt. Not only would she probably be forced to fall back into her habit of breaking the law- and who knew what the Ministry would do with her this time around- but she would probably eventually be caught and dragged back before SF, and she didn't even want to think about how angry he would be then.
So she trudged after SF reluctantly, privately thinking the man could do with a lesson on manners. Jas had often been accused of being dry, sarcastic, and even mean- but she was beginning to think SF could easily beat her out in all three categories. She frowned. It occurred to her he could easily outduel her and possibly even outsmart her as well. As far as she could tell, she had no obvious advantages over this man. She might be able to physically overpower him if he was not familiar with Muggle self-defense techniques- and most wizards weren't- but being able to physically overpower a wizard who easily did wandless and non-verbal spells was rather useless.
Had she finally met her match in the form of her own father? Or rather, the man that was supposed to be her father?
Jas scowled to herself. SF had to have a weakness. She would find it and exploit it, if necessary. And it was almost always necessary. No matter what adults said, they rarely had the 'best interests' of others in their hearts. In Jas' experience, people usually only had one person's best interests in mind- their own. So far, SF had not done anything to indicate that he would harm Jas, but, after long conditioning, Jas did not trust adults, particularly ones that were entrusted with her care. She'd had enough lousy foster parents to know that trusting people was almost always a mistake.
SF glanced over his shoulder, than turned fully around, looking annoyed. "Hurry up!" he snapped.
Jas' scowl deepened. "My trunk can't run, you know," she said sarcastically.
SF's eyes narrowed. "Watch your tone. And if you need help with your trunk, all you need to do is ask." Throwing her another nasty look, he flicked his wand at the trunk that was tottering after Jas, causing the trunk to fly up in the air and float besides SF.
Jas sighed. Yes, she needed to get a lock of SF's hair. He had to have a brush somewhere. In his bathroom? But what excuse could she use to get inside his bathroom? She had her own bathroom, after all.
She jogged after SF as he swept through the corridors of Hogwarts. Furthermore, what could she do about the impending school year? Jas could not quite envision herself in school. Whether Muggle or magical, school had always been somewhat of a disaster for her. She'd infuriated her Muggle teachers by being truant most of the year- although Jas would staunchly tell anyone who'd listen (no one) that her absences had been necessary- never paying attention in class- if the classes hadn't been so dull, she might have paid more attention- and having the unfortunate tendency to get into scraps with other children. All of these things would be enough to drive any teacher mad, but worse was the fact that Jas managed to do incredibly well in her classes without ever turning in a scrap of homework. She was required to take all of the tests the other children had to and she always excelled on the exams, much to her teachers bewilderment. They had grown so suspicious of her cheating in some manner that they had begun purposely making her make up tests far more difficult than the other children's original tests. It did not matter, though; Jas excelled anyway. There was a simple explanation for Jas' success: she loved learning and particularly reading. She might be truant from school quite often but she almost always spent that time in the public library, carefully hiding from adults that would demand to know what she was doing out of school.
Jas learned early on the world was not a friendly place. She had been shifted around from foster home to group home to foster home for as long as she could remember. Many a caseworker had given up on her, labeling her a 'behavioral problem,' and some had even gone as far to threaten her with putting her in a detention center- as if they could do that, honestly, did adults think she was that dim?- if she did not straighten out. Luckily, she had escaped the clutches of the system before anyone could attempt to make good on those threats.
For a very long time, Jas had thought, like everyone else, that there was something wrong with her; that she was inherently undesirable to others for some reason that she could not fathom. It was true that odd things happened around her all the time, but she never intentionally caused any of those things to come to pass; not that anyone believed her when she told them so. No, all of her foster parents eventually came to blame the young girl for the oddities that plagued their household from the moment she had set foot in it: when she was upset, their windows would shatter; when she was crying, the pot on the stove would go up in flames; when she was about to receive a spanking, the belt, boot, switch or other instrument of punishment would simply vanish; when she was deprived of a meal, the rest of the family's meal tasted rotten. Some families had all but thrown her out of their house, declaring to her caseworker that Jas was possessed. Of course, her caseworkers simply assumed Jas was a terrible mischief-maker, particularly as she kept getting thrown out of more and more families' homes.
When she had turned ten and the professor from Beauxbatons had finally given her an explanation for all of the strange occurrences around her, she had been elated. Of course, in the first place, she had been thrilled with the idea of being a witch. In the second place, however, she was happy because she now felt that perhaps she might be able to find a real home, now that she could explain all of her strange behavior to her foster families. Now everyone might not think her such a troublesome child.
Unfortunately, the professor had promptly squashed that hope. He had told Jas in no uncertain terms that she was not to tell her foster families about anything to do with the magical world. The professor told her that, in the event that she was adopted, then she could reveal that she was a witch to her guardians, but she could not tell her foster parents, since they changed so often. The wizarding world did its best to hide from Muggles and thus it would simply not be prudent to tell every pair of Muggles that looked after Jas about the magical world. Instead, the professor just gave the cover story that Jas had been accepted into a special program at a prestigious boarding school. That hadn't been so difficult for everyone to believe, since Jas had always been undeniably bright. It had been harder for everyone to believe when she wasn't kicked out after the first two weeks.
No, it had taken Jas an entire two years before she was kicked out of Beauxbatons. Jas sighed inwardly. It was a pity, too; after everything she'd done to conform and obey school rules, she was kicked out over the summer.
SF wordlessly hovered her trunk into her room, then indicated that she should come sit down at the table in the sitting room. Uh-oh, she thought, it must be time to 'talk.'
Jas sat down in the same chair she'd used that morning, feeling strangely apprehensive. Stop it, she mentally berated herself, he's just another guardian. He can't hurt you. Well, not too badly, she corrected herself, and even if he does hurt you badly then you can just run away.
She was certainly familiar with running away. She just hoped it would not be necessary. Jas did not care to be out on the streets again so soon.
"So," SF said fixing Jas with a penetrating stare.
She restrained herself from saying, So what? But just barely. Instead, she waited for him to finish.
"It seems you have quite the… checkered past," he continued slowly, lacing his fingers together on the table.
Jas frowned. She did not think her past was 'checkered,' she'd simply made a few mistakes, he made it sound as if she were a murderer or something-
"Being an international criminal is indeed a checkered past," SF interrupted her thoughts, making her jump nervously.
Jas decided then that SF must definitely be able to read minds. She would need to research that immediately. Surely there was a way to stop it?
"You were expelled from Beauxbatons for the illegal use of underage magic. In some manner, you wound up in Britain, where you were reprimanded several times for the illegal use of underage magic…. Along with other things. But never mind that for now. I would like to know why you used magic illegally in the first place. And do not lie; you will most certainly regret it."
Jas shivered slightly. Why did he bother asking if he could read minds? Although she most definitely did not appreciate the idea of someone poking around in her head, she almost wished he would do just that, if he was even capable of reading minds and it was not just something Jas had imagined. She did not want to talk about what had caused her expulsion from Beauxbatons and subsequent departure from France.
On the other hand, she was somewhat surprised he had even bothered asking her what had caused her to use underage magic. She was certain it said what had happened in the Ministry's file. Or, at least, it was the Ministry's version of Beauxbaton's version of events. Was he implying he wanted her own version of events?
"Jasmin?" SF prompted.
Jas bit her lip. She might be able to get away with saying she didn't want to talk about it, but then again, she rather doubted it. SF did not strike her as the lenient type. She sighed.
"The summer after my second year at Beauxbatons," Jas began hesitantly, "I was sent to a new foster family. My other foster family had- er, replaced me, since I was gone so much during the year so I wasn't really any use for- well, I was sent to a new family."
"This new foster family," she muttered. "The Prousts. Mr. Proust- he was- he was a jerk," Jas said vehemently. "They were Catholics – all uppity and acting like they were doing me a favor by fostering me- well, everyone does that, but more so than usual- and Mr. Proust was just…" Jas' voice trailed off. She was miserable. She had no wish to repeat this to anyone. She was ashamed and yet defiant about what she'd done at the same time.
"Just what?" SF prodded.
Jas crossed her arms, feeling mutinous. "I don't want to talk about it," she said, sticking her bottom lip out defiantly.
"Jasmin." SF's voice was sharp. "I don't recall giving you a choice. You broke the law. I am giving you the choice to give me your version of events, but believe me when I tell you that I will find out exactly what transpired to get you expelled. After that, I may not be so kind as to give you the choice to give me your version of events," he added nastily.
She scratched her head. She was hungry and tired and she did not feel like being berated by this man. Jas chanced another glance at him and noticed he looked very nearly angry. She flinched involuntarily, feeling nervous. She slunk down in her chair, then straightened back up, annoyed with herself for her fear of this man.
"Mr. Proust always found something wrong with me," she explained finally. "And he'd try to- to- to force me to change, I guess. I'd only been there two weeks when he said I was being too-" Jas struggled for words, not recalling precisely what the idiot man had said, and not particularly caring to, "lippy, I guess. Anyway, he decided to punish me as usual and his belt vanished- I didn't mean to, I don't even know how to banish things, which is what I guess I did- but anyway, he got really mad- he's a Muggle, he doesn't even know about witches- and he said I was stealing and had to be punished and since I stole his belt then he'd have to use his hands and that I'd regret stealing his belt…" Jas' voice trailed off and she shuddered slightly. "He kept hitting me- it wasn't fair. I didn't really even do anything, nothing to deserve that, anyway. The more he hit me, the more accidental magic I did- I shattered a window and I turned his hair red, to name a few. I ran away from him to my room and got my wand out and when he followed me in there, yelling about how running would only make it worse- I hexed him." Jas finished and drew her knees up to her chest, feeling rather like someone had just extracted venom from her soul. It was harder than she'd expected, telling someone about the dreadful family she'd lived with.
SF sighed. "What did you hex him with?" he asked finally.
"Body bind curse," Jas admitted, wincing as she said it.
"Why did you run?" SF asked, frowning at her. "If you had stayed to explain, there is a very good chance you may have been exonerated of all offenses. Child abuse is not an issue taken lightly by most governments."
Jas snorted, staying silent. How could she explain to him? How could she tell him that she'd already known no one would believe her- no one ever did. She was forever the troublesome child, the behavioral problem, just a problem. It would be an adult's word against hers and she would have surely lost.
"Well?" SF demanded, clearly expecting an answer.
Jas ground her teeth irritably. SF was such a lovable man. "No one ever believes me," she snapped. "So I left before they could snap my wand and send me back to another foster family, only defenseless this time."
"I see," SF said slowly. "I must summon Dumbledore," he said, getting up abruptly.
"What?" Jas exclaimed, horrified. "No! I don't want to- to-"
"To ensure that justice is served?" SF snapped. He rounded on Jas, his eyes flashing. "Has it ever occurred to you that you may not be the only child that has suffered by this man's hand? He must be dealt with. Since it is not on your record, I assume you did not report him."
Jas slowly shook her head, feeling slightly ill. SF turned away, throwing Floo Powder into the hearth's flames and shouting, "Dumbledore!"
Jas gazed stared blankly ahead. It honestly had not occurred to her what harm she may have done by choosing to run away than stay. Of course, she'd never dealt with a foster family quite like the Prousts. Beyond reproach on the outside, but twisted and ugly on the inside. What if Mr. Proust did make it a habit to abuse his foster children? Jas knew they'd had foster children before her. She grimaced. She really should have considered things more carefully before she ran off, she supposed.
Although, Jas reasoned, just about any other child besides her would probably get on with the Prousts better. With her unfortunate habit of getting into to trouble and her even more unfortunate habit of having magic burst out of her when she was especially upset, she generally did not have a peaceful existence in foster homes. Particularly ones that worked so hard to maintain a picturesque façade.
Jas didn't even notice the quiet conversation Dumbledore and SF had in the Floo. Had she done the wrong thing? Jas was very used to breaking rules, even breaking the law, but she tried to uphold some semblance of morals. She did not see herself as a bad person; at least, she very much wanted to avoid becoming one. Should she have reported Mr. Proust? She should have tried, perhaps. Why hadn't she even tried?
She already knew the answer to that. How could she have reported him? She remembered that night. The letter she'd gotten over her expulsion- Mrs. Proust's fury at discovering her husband keeled over in Jas' room- there was no way she would ever be able to convince anyone of her innocence. As far as foster homes went, all of her caseworkers thought she was a behavioral problem and would be much more willing to believe Mr. Proust over her. Particularly since, for all intents and purposes, it appeared as if she'd knocked the man out. Although she supposed the Magical Reversal Squad could have done something about that. It didn't change the fact that it was highly unlikely anyone would believe her.
As far as Beauxbatons went, she might be able to get them to believe her, but she didn't know how. And even if she did, she wasn't sure it would have changed anything. The law in France plainly stated that attacks on Muggles were strictly prohibited unless the witch or wizard or another witch or wizard or a Muggle was in mortal danger. No one had been in mortal danger. But then what could she have done? Just sat there and hoped for the best? Used her magic to fly out the window? Jas didn't know how to fly and her stipend from Beauxbatons hadn't been enough to buy a broomstick. And she was not entirely sure that the statute on using magic in front of Muggles was any more lenient that the statute on using magic against Muggles.
Jas started slightly when SF pulled up a chair next to her. "It is done," the tall man said dismissively. "Dumbledore is Flooing the Family Services in the French Ministry as we speak. They should be able to sort things out."
Jas wondered exactly how wizards and witches dealt with this sort of thing. She was certain they would not take her word for it that Mr. Proust was a git.
"The French aurors will keep an eye on Mr. Proust for as long as necessary," SF continued.
Jas considered this dubiously. She did not entirely trust adults – especially those associated with the government that had betrayed her – to do things properly.
"It is out of our hands," SF said firmly. "You have done all you can."
"Did I?" Jas asked, feeling unexplainably anxious. What if someone had already gotten hurt?
SF studied Jas closely. "You are worried," he stated.
Jas was silent. It was a statement, not a question.
SF sighed and leaned back in his chair. "You should not concern yourself with the proceedings, Jasmin. This is an adult matter and the adults will take care of it," he said firmly.
Like they took such great care of me? she thought grumpily.
SF sighed again. "You are twelve years old. The actions of an adult are not your responsibility."
"You made it sound like they certainly were," she retorted.
SF looked at her sharply. "And I just said they are not. Believe me or do not, but please do not dwell on this."
Jas did not respond; she was trying to remember if she had ever heard SF say 'please.'
"Furthermore, I believe it is time you started putting more faith in the capabilities of adults. You will have to, in fact, since I will not tolerate these ridiculous notions you have about doing everything yourself."
Jas cast him a dubious look at this.
"You see what happens when you leave everything to yourself," he added, frowning at her.
She frowned. That was uncalled for. She hadn't meant to do any harm. Was that what SF was getting at? She had to admit, it would be nice to have someone to go to for advice, like a moral compass of sorts. The only trouble with this is that Jas would need to trust that person and she currently did not trust anyone. She certainly would not trust SF to give her sound moral advice; he seemed like he was an assassin in a previous life.
She rose from her seat. She would rather be alone at the moment. Jas could not quite sort out her feelings and that was always such an unpleasant feeling.
"Where are you going?" SF inquired as she rose.
Jas ground her teeth. "My room," she replied evenly. She was not sure why his question annoyed her, but it did. Must he know where she was at all times?
"Very well," SF replied noncommittally.