Swiftcurrent Creek Are written on the subway walls

I wish it was easier to get her to talk, she grumbles. she's one of those people who wears, like, three-hundred layers of masks. I never know how she's really feeling. For all I know, she could be lying to my face every time I talk to her.
She didn't truly think that of her; at least she'd hope that was not the case. But the thoughts grip and tug in the corner of her mind, shake her shoulders, clasp her throat — old habits die hard.
Arric goes on his little self-love tangent, and Wren can't stop herself from breaking into a smile. That's really sweet of you, dude, she averts her gaze, ears pinned. it's just... it's hard. You know how it is, right?