For the second time in as many nights, Catra's done something to hurt Adora. Only this time, she's not exactly sure what.
(Because last night had been all about the scratches on her thigh, right?)
Her heart clenches painfully when Adora's face crumples, when her words come out as a tiny, quiet whimper. Catra scrabbles to think of something to do, something to fix it, but Adora's already turned over and Catra's left staring, wordlessly, at the back of her head.
Her throat works, her lips part; as if she's about to say something. But she loses the nerve for whatever it is, and closes them again. (She's not going to apologize.)
"...Why does it matter?" She finally gets out, and she hates the note of uncertainty in her own voice. She buries it, reaching for firm confidence instead as she asserts: "That stuff doesn't mean anything to you anyway. You never even thought about it until now."
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(Because last night had been all about the scratches on her thigh, right?)
Her heart clenches painfully when Adora's face crumples, when her words come out as a tiny, quiet whimper. Catra scrabbles to think of something to do, something to fix it, but Adora's already turned over and Catra's left staring, wordlessly, at the back of her head.
Her throat works, her lips part; as if she's about to say something. But she loses the nerve for whatever it is, and closes them again. (She's not going to apologize.)
"...Why does it matter?" She finally gets out, and she hates the note of uncertainty in her own voice. She buries it, reaching for firm confidence instead as she asserts: "That stuff doesn't mean anything to you anyway. You never even thought about it until now."