Quinn looked up at Besca across the table. Her face suddenly felt strange, sitting across from her. She was glad she looked nice.

“[color=gray]They want to do the test this afternoon, so we’re in no rush. Take your time. I made sure I’ll be there through the whole thing, and after. When it’s done we’re gonna come right back here, and we can do whatever you want. Watch a movie, play some games—I’ve got a cookbook over there, you pick a recipe, and that’ll be dinner tonight. You can even help, if you want to.[/color]”

She was so nice. The best.

"[color=FFE63D]I think I'd like that.[/color]"

Her face still felt strange, just like [i]everything[/i] felt strange. Was it something to be worried about? She brought her hand up, running worriedly across her—

Oh.

That's what felt so strange. Small, fragile. Like it would crack into fragments if someone looked at it wrong.

It was a smile.

Then her mind caught up with the first half of what Besca had said, and it shattered.

She ran her hand through her hair. Her dry, crackling hair. It had been braided for a week, hadn't it? She fiddled with it and bit her lip as she met Besca's eye with her own still puffy and reddened one. She kept fidgeting with her hair and tried to untie it with her clumsy fingers, but it was harder than it should have been. She dropped her eye. She didn't want to ask the real question. 

So instead she asked, voice wobbling a little more than it maybe should've for the question she was asking: "[color=FFE63D]...Do you have a hairbrush? Can you help me with hair?[/color]"

[i]What test?[/i]