Exasperated despite herself, and exasperated that she managed to feel exasperation - really, 'fair lady,' and 'classic and witty heroine,' just where did he think he got off - Marie looked up at him again. She leaned towards him as she spoke, eyes sparking with some of the passion he'd glimpsed the night before when she hit him, when she laughed, the passion she usually kept safely locked away as she worked. "You have no idea what I think of you. If you want to be thought of something different than 'just another aristo idiot,' you should quit trying to play that part. You sit there and interrupt my work day as if you have the right, directing personal comments at my character. Tell me, Mr. Odinson, how should I think of you?"

What part do you wish to have in my story?