Cerulean Cape crustacean frustration

Outwardly she appeared cross— stiff and unyielding despite her lack of hard, intimidating features accompanied by an unfortunately diminutive build. Inwardly, however, Pipit was shrinking beneath his unwavering gaze: two dreary-lit lanterns hanging from a dark porch in a storm. Her chagrin was fast fading, water draining out of cupped hands, and she was already eager to be shed of this state of mind that felt so unnatural to her. Still, she wouldn't let herself seem too fickle or weak, so she continued to scowl at him despite becoming increasingly aware of how much her face itched from doing it.

The stranger darted forward suddenly; and though it wasn't in her direction, reflexively Pipit gave a small flinch. Her tensely held shoulders began to ease as she watched him snap up the sideways walker and end the poor creature's angst. She hardly expected him to do so, even if he was being derisive about it. "Yes," she huffed back, turning her nose up at his caustic sneering, though even this polite haughtiness couldn't last with her.

She sighed, and looked at him squarely again. "I didn't mean to scold you," she admitted, her voice losing its sharpness in favor of something meek— possibly embarrassed. "I just.. I don't like to see suffering." She realized belatedly that he likely didn't care how she felt about anything, but even as she turned her face away from him, she knew that she needed him to warm to her, as he'd be more inclined to answer the important question she wanted to ask more honestly.