The little shadow that runs through the grass

magicandsteel:

Tim shrugs, conceding the point. “Well, I’m sure you could have the eyes and the cheekbones if you wanted them. Not that the ones you’ve got now aren’t brilliant.” He grins, setting the pizza down on a cooling rack. “Of course not! What sort of courtesy would that be?”

“In comparison to yours? Not really.” Messy pulls a face: “Really, I feel awkward sitting here and doing nothing to help…” It does feel odd; being waited upon, instead of doing the serving, is alien to her. It makes her feel restless, almost an itch under the skin. “No anchovies or pineapple for you?”