[She feels herself looked at, and mostly it doesn't bother her. Mostly. She craves being looked at, being seen, but there's a skin-crawling wrongness all the same, one that she can't ignore. So she chooses to stare back at him, looking into his eerie, too-perceptive eyes, unblinking, until he turns and vomits.]
[Her brows draw together at the smell. At least he's courteous.]
spam
[Her brows draw together at the smell. At least he's courteous.]
Did I hurt you?