[As she glances at the carnival coming to life behind him, there's the slightest crinkle of disgust over her nose, though the disgust is more directed at herself for her cheeks growing warm at the sentiment.
How is it that things were so much easier for her up on that terrace?
And she would ask him again—why her, when he has so many others to choose from?—but the answer will get her nowhere. He would still give it with that same stupid grin, and it would only make things worse for her. So, with a stiff toss of her head, she closes that distance between them at last. How long will this new veneer of hers hold up against him, she wonders?]
A poor choice for whatever it is you plan on doing?
no subject
How is it that things were so much easier for her up on that terrace?
And she would ask him again—why her, when he has so many others to choose from?—but the answer will get her nowhere. He would still give it with that same stupid grin, and it would only make things worse for her. So, with a stiff toss of her head, she closes that distance between them at last. How long will this new veneer of hers hold up against him, she wonders?]
A poor choice for whatever it is you plan on doing?
[She arches a brow at him in question.]