[ There's another giggle at the way the paint ends up smeared in a solid line over almost the whole of his face; she feels almost bad for her obvious amusement at his expense - it's never anything mocking from her, never intended to be cruel. And so when he tucks his glove away, she peels off the blue knit arm-warmer that covers her right forearm, offering it up to him. It's probably a better material to fix his problem, and it's not like the paint won't wash off later, right?
(Even if it doesn't, her clothes have taken a pretty significant beating at this point; they can probably handle a little bit of paint.)
The idea of having a proper bathhouse is interesting, but there's not a lot they can do without light, right? She frowns, pursing her lips. ]
It's tiring, isn't it? Being in a place where nothing wants to work right.
no subject
(Even if it doesn't, her clothes have taken a pretty significant beating at this point; they can probably handle a little bit of paint.)
The idea of having a proper bathhouse is interesting, but there's not a lot they can do without light, right? She frowns, pursing her lips. ]
It's tiring, isn't it? Being in a place where nothing wants to work right.