Flossie Wright directly ignored her sarcasm.
She swung the military saber in her hand before sheathing it at her waist, then slung the rifle over her shoulder.
Walking past Devina Millet, who was still picking up her things, Flossie continued forward at an unhurried pace.
"Hey—"
Unable to contain her frustration any longer, Devina stood up after collecting her things and called out to Flossie.
Flossie stopped in her tracks.
Devina Millet, her gums aching from anger, took a few steps forward, fury blazing in her eyes.
"Flossie, we're in a partnership, right," she pointed at Flossie, her rage evident as she warned discontentedly, "don't be too ruthless!"
Flossie cast her eyes downward slightly, observing her angry expression and the finger almost poking her own face.
There was a flicker of displeasure in Flossie's eyes.
With a quick move, she grasped that finger tightly.
Devina was taken aback for a moment.
Almost reflexively, Devina tried to pull her finger away.
But—
