Confusion hits her and it hits her hard, almost as hard as the next thing she feels. It’s not secret the little bird doesn’t get close to people and its for reasons like this. Her emotions are too pliable. Sensitive, easily plucked. And she’s got the perfect melody to over-react. Once you get past walls, it’s just walking on egg shells and trying to avoid rain storms.
Her green hues avert, drifting with a sluggish pace. She doesn’t understand. She doesn’t remember him acting quite like or maybe the real difference is she didn’t care before. “Oh—”
She’s almost ready to be docile. Her lips press together like there about to say something but she doesn’t know what to say. She doesn’t even want to look at the wounded boy, and out of smite she tells herself she doesn’t care if his hurt. “Why…?”
Jude’s attempt to mask over the severity of his situation with a euphemism is futile, but it sounds liable enough to him. “Look, he doesn’t like people coming over. He’ll be really pissed if he finds out you’re here, so, please, for the sake of my sanity and his … ”
He cuts the sentence short, because he knows she knows what he’s going to say. And he’s hoping her perception won’t veer negatively.
Jude moves to sit next to her on the edge of his bed, body angled away slightly so she won’t catch a glimpse of the gash on his opposite side. He leans forward and pecks her on the cheek, smiling apologetically. “He’ll, um, be gone tonight, I think. We could sneak out.”
