Everyone had bad days, days where their minds latched onto one idea or event and refused to let go. Merlin was having one such day, and he was reaching the end of his rope. Frustration had built up until he wanted to just scream, but he couldn’t.
And therein lay the problem. No matter how much he wanted to, he couldn’t scream or whisper or do anything in between. And at that moment, he wished he could have traded something else.
Summer didn’t even bother pretending she had no idea what was going on. She just marched into Merlin’s room, hands on her hips, and pinned him with a glare. He was giving her a headache, and she couldn’t shut him out.
“You want to talk about it.”