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Violent-Medic
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Clarice nodded. That did sound irritating. She remembered enough to know Mayor Lai was in the area of 'not an asshole' where politicians were concerned, although she couldn't remember the specific reasons why he was important.

Clarice gave a thumbs up at the six. Could do way worse.

Pretty good! Got some more videos up. I think I'm gathering popularity. That's totally one step in the direction of fame and fortune.” Clarice left out the part about how people always watched her more educational v-logs—usually on language—and the projects she put tons of work into—the occasional short films, for example—tended to get very little attention at all. But that was the way of things, she supposed. At least people were watching her stuff at all.

She'd failed to notice, until that point, that Bradley was in the next lane. Now that she'd noticed, however, it made her mood immediately sour. Because this fucking asshole, right?

Clarice hadn't punched anyone since she was a little kid. She liked fighting, but only in the proper wrestling way. Her dad had always told her that strong people didn't go punching weaker, more annoying people. Bradley, however, sorely tested her in this regard. It was like everything he said was designed to anger her.

Outloud, Clarice couldn't suppress an irritated grunt. Otherwise, she acted like she hadn't noticed him. At least in any way that Bradley would be able to notice. She very much doubted he knew sign language, though.

Oh good, I was just thinking the atmosphere was too nice and needed a giant, steaming lump of shit called Bradley in the middle of it,” she signed.
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