Very rude... you ponder mildly as she asks what is wrong with you. I can feel within you that you seemed to like the way your name sounds coming from her lips. Not only had she laughed at us, but now she simply expresses something we knew from before, then tries to point our your flaws. Perhaps I like this girl more than I thought. You snort to yourself, chiding me and letting your ears swivel before returning to the nape of your neck, your gaze wandering before you are back to looking at her, for some reason it being the only comfort in this entire situation. You don't know what to do with her, how to respond or how to even think, and so in order to process this you let yourself sink deeper into the pool, soaking yourself as your eyes never once leave her. Whether you stare at her wings, her eyes, or her slender body, all you can see is brown and gold and I can't help but wonder what in fucking hell are you doing.

Your instincts should be kicking in, causing you to act much more manly than you are now (which is not at all), yet you stare like a frail, sickly child, looking as if you've been scolded by his mother for stealing from the cookie jar. Your patheticness makes me sick, and yet you persist with those almost puppy-like eyes. How she has tolerated you, what she sees in you that urges her to get to know you more I don't know, but you should probably hang onto her and never let go. Because if someone has ever actually taken the time to put this much effort into trying to connect with you, is someone apparently worth something. And someone I should become intimidated by. Don't listen to me Timmy, run away from this wench and hate her. Lash out at her and forget her existence! She is out to destroy you...

You almost feel invigorated by my intimidation, by my lack of desire for you to continue keeping company with this girl. You only continue to watch her movements, where she looks and what her next movement might exactly be. Soon you're letting the filth drop from your skin, into the pools and fading away as you return to your full height. Your wings spread to stretch and dry, shaking them briefly before letting them return to your sides. Your neck arches and you slightly turn yourself to the side, trying to brave through this conversation without being as confrontational as possible. You lower your head, letting your ears finally sway to the side, and with a snort you respond, quiet once more," I am haunted. Though you seem to be too."

Oh? Perhaps you've got more in that brain than I thought little boy. You saw it too? The insecurity in her eyes, the attention she seemed to crave over the smallest thing? And maybe you did see how she tried to act tough, to be strong even when she knew there wasn't much of a different between you two in height. I keep forgetting that despite your paranoia and fear of anything that moves, you observe more than most would think. Soon you lift yourself from the waters, feathered tail dragging behind you clamped together like itself. My tail lashes in an attempt to dry it, before you realize you have no idea how to preen the damn thing. You've never once tried in your life, and so you can only stare dumbly at the tail, as if perhaps that would make it magically groomed. Dumbass.