{ @91strings }
His expression lingers on hers for a moment before transferring to the bruise on her arm that was turning purple quite quickly. How he hates seeing such a blemish on lovely skin especially at his own account. What makes it worse is the red he sees peeking past her fingers like a little reminder she’s lying. “You’re bleeding miss.” He’s sure she knows but he supposes what with her dismissal of her own pain he ought to remind her. “Did you scrape anywhere else?” He’s examining on his own, doing a careful survey from his spot just in case she takes it upon herself to lie again.
“It’s not a simple scratch and it’s certainly not to be dismissed. Those girls had no right to bombard past you like that. You could’ve hit your head on the pavement!” It’s probably the first and last time his voice will rise with such annoyance. “Besides,” his tone softens, “it could get infected.”
