[ He'd find it amusing that they're both talking about each other to him if Raven wasn't so upset and their relationship didn't sound so fragile right now. ]
I don't know how you're gonna fix this. [ Assuming Murphy wants to try. ]
Pandora arrives in her timely fashion, cookies in hand. She's tidy as always - blond hair neatly plaited back from her face, her floral dress faded with age but clean. It's hard for her not to feel out of place. It seems like a fair few people here prefer designer clothing, and the long mark on her neck only seems to make her more obviously other.
Luckily, she's not in the halls long. Murphy's door is easy to find (had she been there before?). Stripping off one glove, she knocks firmly three times, and then tugs the fabric back over her hand while she waits.
Murphy wasn't really expecting her to actually have cookies for him to try so it came to a surprise when he received her text messages. He also didn't think that Pandora would actually be knocking on his door in exactly twenty minutes.
But then he hears a knock on the door.
"Coming," Murphy calls out, voice still a little gravelly. He sounds distant like he is speaking from across the room. A moment later the door is opening.
Murphy looks down at her, the side of his head resting against the door frame. "Are you going somewhere after this?" Her hair is done nice and the dress seems fitting for some kind of holiday party. Murphy, on the other hand, looks worse for wear. There's a prominent amount of scruff that covers the bottom half of his face, travels a little down his neck and just below that is still a bruise that has blossomed around his throat. His hair is disheveled, eyes sunken in and red-rimmed.
Pandora's only really seen Murphy in the photo attached to his ID on the network. That's what she's expecting, but she's hardly surprised that he's a head taller than she is. Most everyone's got at least a few inches on her. It's just-
The question is a momentary distraction. Her dark eyes are focused on his neck a moment, before moving up. The bruise, the disheveled and worn appearance. It's very tempting to reach out, to brush skin and know if this is sleep deprivation or upset or pain-
Her hands tighten on the box instead and she gives him her best polite smile. "The edible kind.," This smartass. "Chocolate chip and peanut butter. What happened to you?"
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