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“I can’t believe you said my beard was handsome and cool…” Brad punctuated his astonishment with a giggle. He mused quietly, a secret, like he couldn’t believe it. Mariner couldn’t believe it either. He mistook her.
Subtle, sad, and hot frustration puffed out from Mariner’s nose.
Before, letting people assume the absolute worst of her was kind of her whole thing. Spoon-feeding folks blatant lies so that they’d stay the %&#* away from her was an effective way of keeping even the most Pakled-paced assholes from trying to build bridges over her defenses. Hell, it kept goofs like Honus out of her business. Listen, lying just saved her the trouble of having to inevitably burn down all those bridges or something more allegorical.
Now though, it hurt, or something, when she was misunderstood—well, it always hurt—but like, now something nagged at her to fix it? That part was new.
“I said you were handsome and cool.” Her lighter palms slid over where the coal-colored synthetic xenylon met white, then red.
“Me… Huh.” He noted stupidly. It’s like she could hear him clicking around and processing it through his weaselly, droning little mind… “You, uh, don’t mind the beard, then?”
%&#*ing dork.