Work Text:
Ronnie was curled up in a closet, clutching a flimsy notebook like it was made of gold. The closet was the only place where she could find any sort of piece or privacy.
She flipped open the book, pressing the pen in her hand onto the paper.
Suddenly Master Chief slammed the door open.
...
"Bro that's so fucking cringe." The Chief said, pointing at the notebook. Ronnie, who was flabbergasted by the armored war machine standing in front of her, stared back at him.
"W-what?" She asked.
"Like I couldn't imagine writing down my feelings in a journal, what do you cry to your mommy when something goes wrong?" The chief chided.
Ronnie's eyes narrowed.
"Do you need something?" She monotones, looking at the floor.
"Oh right." Master Chief said.
...
"Do you need something?" Ronnie repeated.
"Oh well I'm not telling you now."
"What?"
"Why would I tell a cringe beta super important, life altering information? Why waste my time?"
Ronnie tried to bore hole's into Master Chief's helmet with her eyes.
"Oh yeah, well thaaaaannnnk you, thank you for withholding information that I'm just BEGGING you to tell me, thank you SO much for barging in and ruining the only time I get to myself asshole."
Ronnie stormed out of the room, diary in hand.
"Was it something I said?" The chief asked.