Carolina's face screws up, brows pulled tight as a tripwire and lips a steep fold downward. Any onlookers might assume Gerry Keay has just insulted her to her face. That, at any moment, she might reel an arm beck to deck him. Anyone with an intimate knowledge of her expressive repertoire, however, will recognize it as flattered.
"What, like drawing? You any good?"
She stoops down to sort through a box beside one of many vendor tables. Old jackets, trousers, beaten up suspenders, too small or too worn for her. Fingers brush black lace, then, and like a fisherwoman pulling a trout out of the water with her bear hands, she finds herself something. Holds it up to Gerry, perhaps a better fit for him.
no subject
Still pretty punk. Huh.
Carolina's face screws up, brows pulled tight as a tripwire and lips a steep fold downward. Any onlookers might assume Gerry Keay has just insulted her to her face. That, at any moment, she might reel an arm beck to deck him. Anyone with an intimate knowledge of her expressive repertoire, however, will recognize it as flattered.
"What, like drawing? You any good?"
She stoops down to sort through a box beside one of many vendor tables. Old jackets, trousers, beaten up suspenders, too small or too worn for her. Fingers brush black lace, then, and like a fisherwoman pulling a trout out of the water with her bear hands, she finds herself something. Holds it up to Gerry, perhaps a better fit for him.
...Hot.