Flora
Flora’s grin widens as she watches him work, the meticulous way his fingers move over the silver chain and leather strap not inspiring the sorts of thoughts one might expect from her, but merely simply appreciation. "Alright, but we're talking about ghosts," she reminds him, voice lilting. "Are they capable of being touched and being nice? Maybe there’s some kind of ghost rule that says they can’t, which is why it’s always the mean ones that can walk through walls and make shit float." She gestures vaguely with one hand before rolling her eyes at him. "And obviously ghosts are as smart as they were when they were alive—I was trying to pay you a compliment, Niki."
At his stiffening, she stops, arms dropping back to her sides as she chuckles at him, thinking her point has been clearly made. "There’s a difference between liking someone after being around them twice and wanting to lock them up in your house forever," she points out with a teasing arch of her brow. "Gotta ease into that kind of thing."
His answer about his leg wipes away some of her mischief, though, and she leans a hip against the table, nodding slowly as she absorbs the information. She keeps most of her thoughts to herself, assuming that if it could have been healed, it would have been already, but the fact that he doesn’t even know what caused it gnaws at her curiosity. That was the sort of thing that sounded like a curse. Or the sort of thing a ghost might say because they'd forgotten portions of their life. "Does anything besides the brace help?" she asks after a moment. "Like heat or cold, or tonics?"
At his stiffening, she stops, arms dropping back to her sides as she chuckles at him, thinking her point has been clearly made. "There’s a difference between liking someone after being around them twice and wanting to lock them up in your house forever," she points out with a teasing arch of her brow. "Gotta ease into that kind of thing."
His answer about his leg wipes away some of her mischief, though, and she leans a hip against the table, nodding slowly as she absorbs the information. She keeps most of her thoughts to herself, assuming that if it could have been healed, it would have been already, but the fact that he doesn’t even know what caused it gnaws at her curiosity. That was the sort of thing that sounded like a curse. Or the sort of thing a ghost might say because they'd forgotten portions of their life. "Does anything besides the brace help?" she asks after a moment. "Like heat or cold, or tonics?"
Fatefully, I tried to pick my battles 'til the battle picked me
Misery, Like the war of words I shouted in my sleep
Misery, Like the war of words I shouted in my sleep
Code stolen from Queen Sky
