[ The puppet stares at him, at a loss for words. He can feel the warmth in his breast starting to climb up his neck the longer it continues. How many times had he gritted his teeth, brimming with something to say, knowing it would be met with callous indifference? Geppetto's puppet, what a work of art! Precious enough to send into danger, never precious enough to name.
The affection Wriothesley offers him so easily. Pinocchio wants it badly enough that he doesn't trust it or himself with it. His longing has teeth. ]
Stars above, the things you say. [ He mutters, masking his fluster with a furrow of his dark eyebrows that looks approximately like consternation. (Yet, he's a little pleased, too. Flattered? Both.) ] At this rate, I won't be surprised to see you crowned in this ridiculous game.
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The affection Wriothesley offers him so easily. Pinocchio wants it badly enough that he doesn't trust it or himself with it. His longing has teeth. ]
Stars above, the things you say. [ He mutters, masking his fluster with a furrow of his dark eyebrows that looks approximately like consternation. (Yet, he's a little pleased, too. Flattered? Both.) ] At this rate, I won't be surprised to see you crowned in this ridiculous game.