“…”
( Her voice struggles to find itself for a second. She’s absolutely the shyest person most have encountered, and she hates that she can’t just say what she’s thinking easily. )
“I… l-likeyourhair…”
( Barely understandable compliment. )
Trish noticed the look that was on her shoulders without any drama. She didn't look around, she didn't need to. Having that feeling was annoying back then.
< She squirms slightly. She simply looks at another beanbag, still with that deer in headlights look, as if pointing her towards it without saying anything. >