[Slumped against the bars of the cell, Lys keeps watching the kid....until she notices one of his tiny hands curling into the guard's pants leg, betraying how nervous she'd made him. Was still making him. Venting softly, she rolls over to put her back against the bars (see, I'm not a threat, look how easy it'd be to stick a knife in me) and visibly pulls herself together, flashing a smile at Lottie that's all awkward sunshine and warmth.
Even if it doesn't quite reach her eyes—bright blue, ringed with dark hollows—the sappy gratitude in her voice is plain, if pitched low.]
Yeah, you're right. There's no forcing it with kids. [...] Maybe he'll come around later, once we're out of here.
[Said with an optimistic note that's slightly forced, ragged at the edges, but stubbornly there. Where the hell it came from is a mystery for the ages.]
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Even if it doesn't quite reach her eyes—bright blue, ringed with dark hollows—the sappy gratitude in her voice is plain, if pitched low.]
Yeah, you're right. There's no forcing it with kids. [...] Maybe he'll come around later, once we're out of here.
[Said with an optimistic note that's slightly forced, ragged at the edges, but stubbornly there. Where the hell it came from is a mystery for the ages.]