"Dear, dear." The puppet tilted his head, resulting in a clicking noise. "I wonder, what sort of misfortune might have left its mark on this delightful body of yours..." ((Apologies for Drocell's creepiness and lack of empathy <_<))
My muse has questionable bruises, what does your muse say?
Grell was slightly taken back by his words; how strange for someone to speak to her in such a way. "A misfortune that is only mine; one that you are not quite privy to darling."











