Firefly Glen Prom queen

Her gaze made him freeze. And while he was no expert on the matter, he assumed by her reaction that she was the sort who had suffered enough by strangers that her first instinct was to become defensive. He turned his body sideways to offend her less than facing her front-on like a stalker. His head lowered, ears pulled back and joints bent. If she thought his scars were from battles willingly chosen, she was wrong. He was no more suited for scars than a tabby cat was for tiger stripes. 

He felt guilty for whatever experience had made her this easily triggered, and yearned for his apologetic posture to earn him easy forgiveness, even if it was naive of him to do so.

Even with her posture flared, she was noticeably smaller than him, but still he didn't believe for one moment that he could have overpowered her if he had been lured into a fight. Her accusation was uncalled for, but rather than wounding him it made him pine and grieve for her. She was so quick to ignite...And like a lone firefly flashing in the darkness, she would draw attention to herself one day that would snuff out her spark. 

"I- Sorry," He wouldn't be the one to teach her the tough way. She was a dagger, and he was warm leather, yielding and soft. "I'm just passing through." He said, the fluid depth of his tone akin to a beg for permission.