"I don't need your respect to keep doing my job, thankfully."

And since she is disinclined to leave, and since neither of them are afraid of the other, he will finally move his feet to enter the room properly, to easily stride down the pews.

Derrica spoke plainly, if never blandly, and didn't let any emotion seep in. Joselyn is--confusing. Is her brand of anger, of righteous fury, simply pity? How does that work? To feel sorry for someone you disrespect and despise. He takes a seat, folds his hands in his lap. Bowed head, eyes shut. It may seem for a moment that that is the end of it.

"Would you prefer a full blown argument, or would you prefer silence?"