Morela disliked this woman in more ways than were even seemingly possible in the few moments she had learned of her existence. There was something about this woman that made her skin crawl, the way it crawls when something slimey and foreign brushes up against your foot when your in the water or the dark. It was an unseen force, the terrible "wrongness" with this woman, and yet it positively ooxed out of her in waves of crushing disgust.

You, for instance, are a great big deliciously fit Auror, and far too yummy for your own good, and your dear friend and co-conspirator Josh is a back-stabbing coward, whereas I am but a poor hard working toiler in the field of journalism, left all on my own-i-oh in the big lonely office, now-I-wonder-why-that-is.

The inner tom-boy in Morela made her wrinkle her nose and almost gag at the tone and pitch in this womans voice and the way in which she chose her words.

But you, Morela -I can call you Morela, cant I? "

Morela almost gave an embarassing sort of a sputter cough when the woman spoke suddenly to her while she was trying to take a swig from her beer, having been hauntingly entertained by all of this. Why was she talking to her now? Had she met this woman before?

"Well I - "

"you may not remember me, but I remember you. Oh, yes. Who could ever forget your tragic plunge from the heights?"

Tragic plunge from heights?

Morela repeated the words over in her mind, her brow clearly furrowing at the sound of the words and the amused little smirk on her face quickly turning to one of suspicion. Surely this woman meant something else. There was no way that any human being, with any emblance of a soul, would be referring to so casually as what this woman appeared to be referring to.

" Werewolf Wounds Quidditch Queen! Ballycastle Bats Beauty Bitten! wasnt it? Tell me, how are you coping with your unfortunate?

"That was choo?!"

Morela managed to hiss out before she was quickly cut off by an even further demonstration of just how clearly suicidal this woman seemed to be.

"catastrophic? dizzying?"

To be completely honest the word dizzying did come to mind right now, it was the way she felt when she looked at this woman and the words slowly dripped off her teeth like venom. Morela's grip on her beer tightened, her eyes narrowing in temporarily silent wrath.

"fall from adulation to being, well, shunned by your former fans?"

The whites of Morela's knuckles were clearly visible by this point and there was a flush so red and intense upon Morela's high cheekbones that she looked quite literally like she was burning.

" Do you find daily solace in that bottle I see you clutching?"

It was after just those few words that Morela's anger developed into a whole other demon much more sinister in it's wrath. A pang of bitterness swept over Morela, something which might have been noticed very carefully by the smallest of winces at the comment, as Rita made the last comment. The young werewolf had undoubtedly been drinking more lately, even more than the world-weary Quidditch player had before, trying desperately to quell a developing sense of hopelessness these past few months. It was something that Morela had only recently accepted, to only herself, she had started doing but ofcourse had spoken to of no one. So ofcourse Morela found the idea of something so personal and dark about herself being spoken by such an ignorant, ill mannered person he most aggravating thing she had come into contact with in a very long time and naturally this was all beginning to bode very ill for the entire situation.

"Do you find daily solace in that bottle I see you clutching? Do you think you could have survived if not for the kind intervention of Josh, who really is the type to rescue strays from the gutter, bless him.

Had Rita been born with that little voice at the back of your mind that told you when to stop, in the sake of self preservation, she might have noted that the glossy sheen of Morela's eyes and the smallest shaking of her hands were not simply from surpressed tears but also from a rage that was so close to the edge it was loosing it's balance.

I mean, look at him now, still the same old Josh: not really comfortable unless hes got his latest lovely on his lap. But shouldnt that be the delicious Miss Duncan? Isnt she the latest Item on his to do list? Oh, no, I see not. She is otherwise occupied with her own form of boy-baiting. Goodness. You could almost take them for family.

"Enough!"

Morela, who moments before had signaling her full intentions when she had shakingly pulled her favorite wooden bracelet off of her arm and her ring off of her hand, quickly shoved her beer into Ransom's hands and her ring into Benjy's, stating something to the effect of "Hold these," while she stormed past Leathan towards Rita Skeeter and a pace which resembled less of a storm and more of a lunge.

"Choo, Cadela Horrible. I'll geev choo a damn story!"

Unless Rita Skeeter, a name after which reading Morela had vowed some sort of vivid revenge upon, had to many miracles up her sleeve she was about to get the inevitable pain of "what she had coming".

Oh, you look so tired
Mouth slack and wide
Ill-housed and ill-advised
Your face is as mean
As your life has been