*She watches him with helpless interest, the white covers drawn up to her chin, her mouth set in something like a pout. Behind it, she's wondering--what sort of girl is she, exactly? Her parents raised one, Tom and the handsy men at the Leaky see another, and in truth, she isn't sure what she is. A part of her is wishing wholeheartedly for some indication of what she's supposed to be, some clear path for her to follow. But there's none, only Evan, and the jumble of fear and desire that she's made of at the moment, and it's that more than anything that's got her voice so small.*
no subject
Date: 2011-06-24 09:52 pm (UTC)You're making fun of me.