We know she's irrelevant. We know she's irrational, opinionated and emotionally charged. Or maybe she's just the devil's advocate.
Hard to live with, oh yes. That quick smile and disarming blonde hair. Wait 'till she turns on you. Rips your words to shreds with that quick tongue. She'll defend you mightily behind your back. She's like that.
Oh, Rebecca. Her questions hit your face like a wet towel. She'll manipulate your words. Play with them like putty, forming characters of her whim. You won't understand what you've said. Wonder what you meant. And she'll love you hard. She's good at that. Crazy girl.
Give up on winning. Becky knows subborn. She knows a fight. She knows how not to lose. Make her yell. She'll lose control and seeth in her own anger. Make her cry. That's your best chance. Practice it. Tune it. Learn the chinks in her armour and the smooth white tissue underneath. Pierce hard and you'll see that deep red seeping through.
That pale hair flowing past her thighs and her forehead on her knees.
She's like that, Becky is.