isadora approached the fancy restaurant with a slight grimace of pain-- her pale hand coming up to gently prod at the bruising around her eye. it had been a rough past few days. her uncle was sick, and she was too kind to deny help. but the soup had been too cold--or was it too hot?-- either way, it wasn't to his liking. he hit her again; hard. the bruise was a size of a fist, and she could hardly open her eye without looking like she was (oh, and she was) in immense pain. But as she got to the restaurant, her face lifted and the grimace turned into a grin-- running over to Ryder. her small hands clasp the flowers from his hand--then throw themselves around his neck in a warm hug; "Ry, I missed you." and then the glasses came off. she pulled away, in attempt to hide the bruise--there was no way.
