Tate’s shining lip wring caught Isis’s eyes as it was reflected in the soft plastic lights.
She was a tall girl with high cheekbones and cat-like composure. People, in fact, probably would mistake Tate for a cat. Even her posture was erect and focused. She was somewhat pretty, but her eyebrows seemed to be stuck in an always suprised expression on her face.
“Here kitty-kitty,” Isis called quietly, barely audible over the sounds of their insane laughter.
Tate’s laughter stopped dead. Her face slammed into a demonic expression and Isis suddenly regretted speaking. Her hands curled into fists and she seemed to grow another foot taller.
“What did you just say?”
Amby was quite during this time. Obviously not wanting to disturb her leader.
“Nothing.”
“Oh no, darling, I think you said something,” Tate barely whispered leaning in to the corner where Isis stood. Isis could feel her tic-tac flavored breath only millimeters away. Their noses almost touched and Isis waited for the blow to come.