swarthy , SCARRED fingers tighten the last link of the braid , securing it in the girl’s dark hair.
❛ my MOTHER does it better , but that should hold for now. ❜
“Thank you.” Thumb & forefinger give the braid’s tip a firm tug as she smiles to the girl. “It’s lovely.”
She pauses then, simply watching, observing, all the while carefully contemplating what should next fall from her lips. There’s much she could say, yet nothing seems -- right. Mediocre, abhorrently bland & simple possibilities offering themselves to fill the silence, idle means of passing time. Even in the midst of deafening internal buzz, she recognises what is potentially the worst of all, & she’s nothing short of appalled to realise her lips are already moving, giving life to what’s probably been inquired of Katniss Everdeen a thousand times before.
“ -- How are you?”
