Stavanger Bay my heart is broke, but i have some glue

as ford turned, rannveig crossed his eyes in a gross exaggeration of his brother's stiff-lipped attitude, the tip of his tongue poking between his needly teeth. if ford happened to look back then, he'd see a grotesque estimation of his own features mirrored back to him -- only, incredibly juvenile and scrunched up.

correcting his pinched features with an easy shake of his body, rannveig dutifully trotted after ford -- all the while cycling between various inestimably silly faces as they went.