Stavanger Bay oh what a wonder, oh what a waste

nakedly the poppy-pink gaze of her's sweeps across the other's patchwork form, taking in the funny-odd way her fur's grown over - something, something, an injury perhaps? it's too subtle for her to make out, and anyway the cutely choked hi draws her back to the girl's face. she's greeted by a smile and the witch mirrors it, mouth curled in a brightly lit grin, trademark-crooked. 

"don't think i know you," witchbaby agrees with a giggle - what a silly thing to say! of course they haven't met yet, though of course she's happily oblivious to the stranger's affliction. "call me wb," she says, still smiling, "an' what can i call you?"