[goodness, she's a wiry little thing. all skin and bones, wearing a costume — at least, he thinks it's a costume, it's hard to tell in a place like this where people wear clothing that's much stranger — that practically hangs off her. there's something really sad about watching her claw at whatever fabric she can grab at, like she half-expects it to shield her or hide her, but it's not nearly as bad as the look she gives him. Stine recognizes it all too well from his own childhood; wide-eyed, abject terror that muddles everything else but the monster you're caught staring down.]
Look. [he shows her his hands, open-palmed and empty.] See? Nothing.
[moving as deliberately slow as possible, he starts to lower himself to his knees, trying to put himself on her level.]
I'm not out to get you. All I'm trying to do is find my way out of here.
no subject
Look. [he shows her his hands, open-palmed and empty.] See? Nothing.
[moving as deliberately slow as possible, he starts to lower himself to his knees, trying to put himself on her level.]
I'm not out to get you. All I'm trying to do is find my way out of here.