Everybody keeps coming up to me. And hugging me. Telling me that I must be so relieved that my brother's killer has finally been caught. That this nightmare is over. Then why doesn't it feel that way?
Quoted in:
– Veronica, welcome to the River Vixens. Betty... better luck next time.
– Wait… what? Why? Because you couldn't bully Betty into being a bitch?
– I need girls with fire on my squad.
– I know what you need, Cheryl. Because I know who you are. You would rather people fear than like you, so you traffic in terror and intimidation. You're rich, so you've never been held accountable, but I'm living proof, that certainty... that entitlement you wear on your head like a crown... it won't last. Eventually, there will be a reckoning. Or... maybe that reckoning is now and maybe, that reckoning... is me. Betty and I come as a matching set. You want one, you take us both. You wanted fire? Sorry, Cherry-bombshell, my specialty's ice.
You catatonic bimbos didn't even vote. So you stuttering sapheads are too dim to exercise your own rights, and you've got the combined vocabulary of a baked potato. Consider this your last practice as River Vixens, and your last week as my social handmaidens. You're fired on all fronts. That's all. Shoo, bitches.