He frowned at her some more. He did not enjoy when she said words that made his heart do things. In this case, she seemed to have verbally speared him. She possessed incredibly annoying precision. This   was   his space. He’d been in the middle of using it to ruminate. He did not need her here, interrupting his train of thought with her smiles, and her verbal barbs, and her general brilliance. He did not want brilliance, today. He was feeling exceptionally grumpy and preferred his world to reflect that: the grey, the damp. Unlit. Over the past several months he’d grown accustomed to her presence, yes, but in a planned sort of way. He could psych himself up for a Granger Day.