[It doesn't bother her, the habit of enjoying digging stuck around with her after becoming a Fairy Tale.]
Not really. I'm tough.
[Her poor nails will be in horrendous shape, but she's at least digging quickly, so it isn't long before she's created a nice, deep divot for the sleeping bag.]
[He's fairly sure the answer is no, and a gentleman should always offer to do the work for a girl, pretty or not. But he shrugs, affecting a confused air.]
Don't rightly remember, but I don't see why not. Unless you're saying there's some reason a pretty girl can't do the work?
Hey, I grew up with three sisters, you learn pretty fast that girls ain't just decorations.
[He might not remember their names, or their faces, but he remembers bits. He remembers the sound of their laughter as they ganged up on him, the way they could scream at each other louder than he ever could.]
[It's not as hard a conversation as it would be with others, and there's even a part of him grateful for the opportunity. Grateful to have someone he trusts enough to talk about this, without it becoming a whole big thing about how much he's forgotten.]
Not a lot. I remember her hands were real calloused on the fingers, she did a lot of sewing. I think maybe she did it for cash as well as for the family. I remember her voice, she had a strong Brooklyn accent, and she didn't take no prisoners when it came to her kids misbehaving. I don't remember her name or her face, but at least I have bits of her.
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[She kicks a bit at the snow there, looking down at it studiously. It looks good enough to her, so she crouches down and starts digging.]
I think it's perfect, then.
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Doesn't it hurt your fingers to dig like that?
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Not really. I'm tough.
[Her poor nails will be in horrendous shape, but she's at least digging quickly, so it isn't long before she's created a nice, deep divot for the sleeping bag.]
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Really? Pretty sure I'd have noticed that by now.
[Said in a total deadpan.]
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[Not that she minds. She stands back up, hands on her hips, looking over her work.]
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[He blinks in surprise, he hadn't realised he remembered that before now, but it's nice all the same.]
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Even if that fool is a pretty girl?
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Don't rightly remember, but I don't see why not. Unless you're saying there's some reason a pretty girl can't do the work?
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[He wins this round!!]
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[He might not remember their names, or their faces, but he remembers bits. He remembers the sound of their laughter as they ganged up on him, the way they could scream at each other louder than he ever could.]
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[She remembers her sisters, and how much the three of them fought.]
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[The sting of admitting that is less with her than with most people.]
Less about them than about my Ma, and what I have of her is kinda sketchy.
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Well, what do you remember about your mother?
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Not a lot. I remember her hands were real calloused on the fingers, she did a lot of sewing. I think maybe she did it for cash as well as for the family. I remember her voice, she had a strong Brooklyn accent, and she didn't take no prisoners when it came to her kids misbehaving. I don't remember her name or her face, but at least I have bits of her.
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[Her tail flicks, and she gestures at the hole she's dug in the snow.]
How is this?
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[He's bigger than he looks, he's no petite fox lady.]
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[There will be a lot of squeezing, in other words.]
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You're goddamn incorrigible, you know that?
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[But hey, she's convinced him, so she'll do the same. She'll even be polite and keep her tail on her side.]
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...you ever do this with Monty? Camping, I mean?
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Not really. He was never much of a fan of roughing it.
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[They seem so different, opposite in so many ways.]