[For Fuschia Groan] "Well, that was fun..." (continued)

[mal_badinlatin]

Continued from here

Mal makes certain the weird white-haired kid has departed before he holsters his pistol and turns to Fuschia. "Hey, y' all right there now, Miss Fuschia?" he asks. "Yer shakin' like a leaf inna gale wind."

He hates seeing a nice girl like her so shook up like this, especially when some punk-ass kid shook her tree this badly.

Comments

[drownedfuchsia]

Fuchsia's less than thrilled about the events of the afternoon. It's likely her discarded book will be there for a while.

"He looked like he could kill me," she thinks about it for a moment. "Usually, that's only in people's eyes but it was on his face." Her hands flutter up near her face as if mimicking the way one would have to pinch the skin to recreate Spike's face.

[mal_badinlatin]

"Trust me, I know the type," he says, looking away for a moment. "There's worse types 'n my world. Least this one took th' hint an' left peacefully."

[drownedfuchsia]

"There are worse?" Fuchsia's glad to know they're in his world and not here.

"I don't want to think about what would've happened without you." She's trying to show gratitude, but it's a little simpering. She's like that.

[mal_badinlatin]

"Neither do I," he says, glancing over his shoulder to make sure no one is sneaking up on them. "Do I want to know just what that feller is...was?"