Misandry isn't a crime, but murder is.

"Anything you'd like. Breakfast will be in a few hours." She stretched, and hurried up the stairs to her apartment, not bothering to wait for Miss Andry.

"We can't eat now?' She wondered, following Dia closely.

"If we eat now, we'll be hungry during the morning. Do you honestly want that many extra calories?" She sneered, rolling her eyes.

"I know I'll work them off, Princess," she sneered back.

"There's not a brothel or a gym in the area, good luck," she scoffed. "But if you insist, you can eat something now. What do you request?"

"No," she replied, holding up her hand. "It's rude to eat in front of someone else. I can wait for the Princess."

"Stop calling me that," she said, holding open her door for Miss Andry. "My name is Diamond, or Dia."

"I don't see how Diamond is any less of an insult," she replied, smiling despite her better intentions.

She groaned,hurrying to her comfy couch.

"My Daddy named me, of course. He thought Diamonds were pretty and valuable and desirable, just like his daughter would be." She shrugged. "That meaning wasn't quite what the kids at school got from it, but that's life."

"Parents always think they have the best intentions in mind," she sneered, crossing her arms. "Rarely is that ever true."

"Is that why you hate your parents?" She asked, slipping out of her coat and tossing it to the floor.

"Among other things," she replied, sitting down in a vacant seat. "My parents were less than ideal."

"So you did hate your father. Not what I would have guessed." She reclined in her seat, and the strap of her dress slipped down over her shoulder; she didn't seem to notice.

"I love my Daddy, he's just a fool. Though, I suppose that's none of your business--you aren't big into sharing, right?" She tried to hide a smile unsuccessfully.

"So long as your father isn't a sex offender, I don't have any problem with him," she replied with a shrug.

"Was yours?" She countered.

"Guess."

"Probably, given your unreasonable hatred for men," she reasoned. "Mine likes younger women, but I don't think he's ever brpken the law for it--stupid bastard."

She shrugged.

"I suspect your father knows better, considering what you've been doing tonight."

"What he does is out of my control--I can only weed his employees," she sighed wistfully, staring at her painted nails. "A girl only has so much control--but you would know all aout that."

Miss Andry just grunted.

"If you wanted to know who I was, you could just ask."

"Then spill--who've I got to tell? We have the same objectives, after all."

"Yelizaveta Moiseyev," she said, looking at Dia. "My name is no worse than yours, it seems."

She scowled at that.

"I suppose so. So, we're finally beyond all of that smoke and mirrors bullshit? Can we talk like acquaintances, now?"

"I don't have friends, so excuse me if I don't know how to act around people I'm supposed to be friendly with," she admitted. "I don't often make friends or anything of the sort."

She smirked.
"I can't imagine why not. Is this an awkward proposal of friendship, then?"