Like Clockwork (For Stuffy)

He looked interested, tilting his head.

"Really? Does everyone in the Star know how to read?"

 

His face fell slightly, although he hid it pretty well.

"Oh."

 

He looked over at her.

"Like whistles," he said after a moment, doing a quick birdcall. "Like that."

 

"Do they? I'll show you some real ones later," he said, resting his head on his hand.

 

He raised an eyebrow before returning to his food.

His eyes were a silvery green and his dark hair was disheveled. He had faint stubble along his jaw, and a scar crossing his right eyebrow. His skin was slightly tanned, although it mostly seemed a result from working in the sun. He seemed to be deep in thought, resting his head on his hand.

 

He snapped out of thought and his fingers absently brushed the scar on his eyebrow.

"This one?"

 

"A run-in with the Pillagers a couple of years ago," he said nonchalantly, taking a sip of the raspberry juice.

 

He looked at her incredulously.

"It didn't feel great, Price."

 

"Thank you for acknowledging that," he said with a nod.

 

"Hm. Well, now we have an in-depth reflection of our scars."