Sally-Anne was feeling out of sorts and rather confused. Ever since the previous weekend, she’d been feeling the strange urge to attack Briallen and beat her to a bloody pulp. When she arrived for their meeting, it was all she could do to restrain herself from not leaping upon the auburn-haired girl with the emerald green eyes and strangle her with her guitar strings. Myrtle leant over and gently tapped Sally-Anne on the knee. The ghostly cold touch roused her from her introspection, "What?"