[Justine knows what it's like to feel broken beyond repair; to have people look at her and call her crazy. She hates it. She hates how others pushed on her when she already felt like she was drowning. She could see it in their eyes, in the set of their lips... everyone is the same.]
That's good. I like helping.
[The pad of her finger lightly traces the pattern of the scales.]
I saw some of the scars. Where were they from?
If you don't mind talking about it.
[Justine's happy that he's comfortable laying in her lap like this.]
no subject
That's good. I like helping.
[The pad of her finger lightly traces the pattern of the scales.]
I saw some of the scars. Where were they from?
If you don't mind talking about it.
[Justine's happy that he's comfortable laying in her lap like this.]