Cyrilla sighed. “You think that’s going to hurt me?” she said coolly. “If you’re trying to insult me, you’ll have to do better than that. There’s nothing you can say that I haven’t already told myself in the mirror.”
She brushed past Tiffany, deliberately bumping her shoulder on the way to our table. Then she paused, glancing back to deliver one final remark to the stunned Tiffany.
“And honestly, your insults aren’t even insulting,” Cyrilla added. “They’re just…” She paused, tilting her head. “Boring.”
We were all grinning as she returned to the table, amused by what we’d just witnessed. Just minutes earlier, we were on edge—ready to intervene, afraid Tiffany’s words might push Cyrilla over the brink. But we hadn’t expected her to bounce back so effortlessly.
She must’ve felt us watchi
