"Every time you talk to me?" She shakes her head with a laugh, but the laugh dies when she realises that he's looking at her legs, and she misunderstands. She misunderstands, her brows furrowed as he looks guilty, and then smiles. "You could just ask, y'know." She says it quietly, her brows furrowed together.
She's got a mass of scar tissue wrapped around the front of her right calf, one huge, horrible scar flanked by many straight, simple ones from the surgeries she's had. He says she's a damsel in distress - DIY or no, and her brows shoot up even higher. Distress is something she's not in, she just hadn't wanted to climb down the ladder and back up just for a hammer. Still, she perks up when he says he's got pastries. "What kind of pastries?" She's always interested; especially because she doesn't know most Italian pastries from a hole in the ground.
She scrubs off her hands with one, then another wet-wipe, the first one discarded once it's black.
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She's got a mass of scar tissue wrapped around the front of her right calf, one huge, horrible scar flanked by many straight, simple ones from the surgeries she's had. He says she's a damsel in distress - DIY or no, and her brows shoot up even higher. Distress is something she's not in, she just hadn't wanted to climb down the ladder and back up just for a hammer. Still, she perks up when he says he's got pastries. "What kind of pastries?" She's always interested; especially because she doesn't know most Italian pastries from a hole in the ground.
She scrubs off her hands with one, then another wet-wipe, the first one discarded once it's black.