Does she recall it? That he'd slept on her floor after struggling out of his jacket? And breakfast the morning after with thick slabs of bacon and warm butter and thin watery cider, the ghost of grease paint whiskers still stuck on her face. The light gossiping with the hangover-delicate girl who'd served them breakfast about the details of the prior evening's fire.
Maybe. Hard to say whether it's that or some other thing that softens the put-on edges of her chosen expression. Maybe it's his attention on the job she's given him, or the slant of the borrowed hat perched on top of his head.
"Very handsome," sounds like approval. Good catch. Or at the very least, good near miss.
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Date: 2022-07-04 09:08 am (UTC)Maybe. Hard to say whether it's that or some other thing that softens the put-on edges of her chosen expression. Maybe it's his attention on the job she's given him, or the slant of the borrowed hat perched on top of his head.
"Very handsome," sounds like approval. Good catch. Or at the very least, good near miss.
"Why didn't you?"