@pnkb1tch. / continued.
she's tired. she's always tired, sure, but she's felt so observed the past few days. arlo isn't bad company, per se, but she feels as if she's a creature under observation rather than a person. he'd found her on accident, bringing little things to the ghosts of the cemetery to keep them from menacing the groundskeepers & nearby houses. after all, they're still just people. they want some sort of connection, even if they can't have it. (she understands that far more than even she knows.) selflessness has always been her strongest motivation.
there was an old man, rather unpleasant fellow, who'd perhaps been less than satisfied with her offer of conversation & trinkets. he'd gone on some unseen tirade about how he doesn't need any charity, or any help, especially not from her. the venom in his tone sapped what little energy she had left, the spectre of the man vanishing with the approaching steps of her living companion.
she's taken great care to keep a physical distance from arlo, more for his sake than hers, but she's so tired. annette's set her head against his shoulder before she realizes it. & then he wraps an arm around her, & she relaxes. maybe this is safer, after all, with someone else there. she closes her eyes for just a moment, jumping slightly when he pushes curls from her face. "m-m-m'f-fine ... ti - tir-red. h-he, um." referring to the ghost she knows he couldn't see. "s-sai - said he d-d-didn-n't w-want my, um. p-pity." a small shrug. nothing she isn't used to.