waiting room

Ark bristles at the woman’s blatant dismissal, but all his threats and insults seem to slide off her like water; she simply stares him down, an immovable wall. it makes him want to rage harder, to hurl whatever he can at that stoic expression until something finally, finally makes her crack. but he hasn’t the energy, and it might only worsen his situation. he doesn’t know enough about this pack yet; perhaps they’re in the business of torturing loud-mouthed princes. ex-prince, his mind supplies automatically, and Ark’s expression sours even further. his grumbling stomach, however, draws his attention once again. “i will eat,” he snaps finally, every word bitter on his tongue, “only so that, when the time comes, i will have the energy to rip your throat out.” as though worried she’ll take back the food, he dives into the offered provisions with graceless desperation, polishing it off in mere minutes. his mama would be horrified.