It took Kaelira a good few minutes to calm down. Her shoulders trembled less, her breath steadied, and the haunted look in her eyes finally began to fade. I didn't say anything—just reached into my pocket and handed her a crumpled, barely-used handkerchief.
She looked at it like I'd offered her a dead rat, but took it anyway. Wiped her tears without a word, then let out a long, heavy sigh before sitting up straight again.
The moment she did, I couldn't help myself. Mischief was my second language.
I grinned. "Damn, Kaelira. I didn't know you cared about me so much. What's this? You falling in love with me? Honestly, I won't blame you. I am ridiculously good-looking."
She gave me a flat, deadpan stare that could've curdled milk. "Fuck off. I don't do horror well, that's all. I was crying out of fear, not love. Who would fall for a lusty bastard like you?"
I chuckled wryly, raising both hands in mock surrender. "That's fair. Not gonna lie."
