Adora's eyes go wide, and the mask of frustration on her face slips to reveal a look of every vulnerable emotional she doesn't want to let show: her shame, her want, now joined by a fresh tinge of hurt.

Of course Catra was just messing with her. Because that stuff's just normal to Catra, right? She doesn't have to spend all day obsessing over it, after. She doesn't have to care.

Adora pries Catra's hand from her mouth, and her chest swells with her inhale like she's building up to say-- something impactful, something big, anything that's not the sad little whimper-voice that ends up leaving her mouth.

"That's not fair."

She feels stupid, and she feels even stupider for having said it, and her face crawls with itchy embarrassment-heat and she hates this, hates this, hates this.

"... Whatever. I don't care."

Scrunching her eyes shut, she turns her back to Catra, knees drawn up to her chest.