Gabriella instinctively reached up, brushing a hand against her curls as she laughed, the motion as natural as breathing. Her hair had always been her shield, soft spirals cascading down to cover what lay beneath. It wasn’t something she thought about most days—just a part of who she was, something to hide in plain sight—but moments like this, when her guard slipped and laughter came so easily, reminded her to keep it in place. “Unbelievable,” the witch muttered, shaking her head at Togame’s over-the-top display. Her curls bounced slightly with the motion, but she didn’t let them shift too much. The last thing she needed was for her little secret to peek out now. “You’ve got jokes, huh? I’ll remember that the next time you need saving from some heavy lifting.”
Her steps quickened as she gestured toward the next corner, a grin still tugging at her lips despite her attempt to sound exasperated. “It’s a left up here,” she said, stealing another glance at him. His relaxed stride, the way he carried the bags like they were nothing now—it was strangely reassuring. Like no matter what else might be going on in his head, he’d make sure things got where they needed to go. Her curls shifted slightly as the evening breeze picked up, and she instinctively tucked them closer to her face, fingers smoothing them down with practiced ease. “And for the record,” she added, her tone playful but just a touch self-conscious, “if you even think about juggling those bags, you’re on your own.”