[ The burn is uglier than he wrote it off as being. Ranging in the second-degree, the darkish marks from her grip branded on the skin of his wrist. He feels the flesh prickle in wake of the water, imagines a blue phospherescence trailing over his wound. This ability to heal as well as damage is useful. (Privately, he wonders how badly she'll sulk once midnight strikes and her bending is ...not stolen, but sealed off again.) ]
[ While she heals him, he keeps his expression neutral, his gaze on the burn. But she may notice him casting little glances down at her with every few seconds, absorbing every visual detail of her face. He doesn't try to hide it. He wants to look at her as a stranger would, but he can't separate what he knows of her from the blank slate evoked by the curse. ]
[ The two of them remind him of children. Caught in a riptide of pettiness and push-me-pull-you. ]
Sunday - Nighttime ♥
[ While she heals him, he keeps his expression neutral, his gaze on the burn. But she may notice him casting little glances down at her with every few seconds, absorbing every visual detail of her face. He doesn't try to hide it. He wants to look at her as a stranger would, but he can't separate what he knows of her from the blank slate evoked by the curse. ]
[ The two of them remind him of children. Caught in a riptide of pettiness and push-me-pull-you. ]
Because I know it for a fact.