Actually, around here, I think it's meant for the walls.

[ she's still smiling. it lingers, as her attention stays fixed on finding the child. for a moment, she forgets, and everything is good again. with something else to focus on, an outside activity that requires her attention and that he joins in with her together, her chest doesn't feel tight. she doesn't analyze her every move as she reaches for a rag and starts to wipe at the paint on her face. she almost thanks him.

and then she looks up into the face of the black heretic, and it all comes back. the wrongness. the way it won't quite sync up with the warmth in the crinkling of his eyes, like it couldn't possibly be this person. she tries to hold onto her levity. ]

Thinking of joining the theater? You'd make quite the performer.