The next picture to turn up would have made her smile and laugh, if she hadn't still been so angry.

She had finally decided, after her nearly life ending run in with Ms Marvel, that life was for living and she would live hers the best way she could. Meaning, she would give her boyfriend the chance to love her physically, working around her mutation. Knocking on his closed door had been a relic of the politeness taught her as a child, the following banging thump had worried and amused her.

As she pushed the door open, assuming she would find Remy tripped over something in his haste to get to the door, she had frozen at the soft feminine squeak from his bed, as the loose sheets were hurriedly pulled up over a naked body. Unfortunately for him, her boyfriends naked body was on full display sprawled on the floor, where he had indeed tripped, over the sheet that was twisted around his ankle.

"Right," was all she had said, before she turned around and walked away, leaving the door open behind her. Remy's shouts for her to wait, and come back did nothing but fuel her anger, and when he was finally dressed enough to come chasing after her she was fury incarnate. She had chewed him out right where he found her, in the middle of the main hallway, in full public view of everyone, and the drawing captured her righteous fury perfectly.

Every sweep of the charcoal - that's what she had discovered most of the drawings were done with - spoke of pride, of strength, of purpose, and she found herself silently cheering for the drawing her. So confident and at ease in standing up for herself, she was sure she hadn't really looked like that, she probably looked like some pathetic, emotional fool, but it was nice to pretend.

That argument had ended their relationship, in typical loser fashion Remy had tried to gaslight her, placing the blame for him cheating on her and her mutation. Only problem was, he had known about her mutation from before the first time she agreed to go out with him. He knew what he was getting into, he chose that, and he was just a cheating man-whore who couldn't keep it in his pants. She had marched away, leaving him to face whatever public ridicule would come after that, and he hadn't bothered to come after her again. In fact, in three days he hadn't even stayed in the same room as her long enough for her to look at him.

With a final glance at the picture, she let a tiny smile slip past her scowl as she set it aside in her collection.
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