The Least Common Denominator

Interlude XXII: Ica III

"Pardon my French, but you fucked up, Master."

"You think I don't know that?!"

Ica was never one for being patient with her Master's idiocy. Well, that was what she first thought, at least. She had been shaped by her Master's own ideals and self-image; her personality coming from her Master's repressed and atrophied perfectionist tendencies if the phoenix recalled. She never tolerated failure, even in her thoughts. And that was perhaps the reason why she was harsh on her Master's self-destructive tendencies.

But then again, her Master was an absolute idiot.

"Oh, I know," Ica frowned, her fiery hair practically glowing with power alongside her currently gray suit. "But you could've easily found other solutions if you weren't such a drama queen."

"I am not a drama queen!"

 

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