I'll slap you again. [It's muttered under her breath. She tucks the mirror into her purse, digging through until she finds the little penny knife she always carries. She snaps it open, rests it against her palm, and bites her lip. She doesn't like doing this sort of thing.
A quick breath and a shallow cut and she flinches, watching the injury instead of Dorian. Blood starts to swell across her hand, and then the gash closes slowly, like a zipper being drawn across her skin.] Magic, bunny. Folk superstition is wisdom people like you would rather forget.
[That one she took straight from Thomas's litany of wisdoms.]
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A quick breath and a shallow cut and she flinches, watching the injury instead of Dorian. Blood starts to swell across her hand, and then the gash closes slowly, like a zipper being drawn across her skin.] Magic, bunny. Folk superstition is wisdom people like you would rather forget.
[That one she took straight from Thomas's litany of wisdoms.]