Writer's Detour

"Fictional feelings again, eh?"
She turned and glared at his smug face. She balled up the piece of paper in front of her and launched it into the side can with a simmer.
"It's not compelling without fantasy." It curled out like smoke. She started another page.
She wrote intently for about three paragraphs.
The door swung open again. She looked up without any expression of surprise. It was more like she was trying to push it away with her eyes.
In her head she tripped over whether to say, "Oh, you," and how to say it. But the curvy little figure was intercepted just inside the door, by him of course. Then they were whispering. He did most of the talking.
She let them talk while she evenly creased the piece of paper into clean rectangles.
"Ooh, I wanna see!" trumpeted the curvy little figure.
The piece of paper spun to the can.
"No, you don't," she was trying to say with authority, but they were whispering some more. He was steering her out of the room.
The curvy figure turned one last time to say, "Well, why don't you just--" as he closed the door on her voice with utmost condescension.