[ Her glance slides to the hair tie again. It's bright pink, glittery, and there seems to be some kind of blush-colored pom poms attached. It's the kind of thing Waverly loves and Wynonna hasn't voluntarily worn since she was six.
She looks him in the eye again, narrowing her own, then lets go of the chair and saunters forward to pluck the hair tie out of his fingers and stretch it around her own. She doesn't move away, just stands here, inches from him, and meets his eyes as she reaches back to fingercomb her hair into a ponytail, tying it off with the ridiculous elastic until it's high and swingy at the back of her head. A peppy cheerleading pony that flips and swings when she shakes her head, brushing against her neck, where the bitemark Louis left is still healing. ]
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She looks him in the eye again, narrowing her own, then lets go of the chair and saunters forward to pluck the hair tie out of his fingers and stretch it around her own. She doesn't move away, just stands here, inches from him, and meets his eyes as she reaches back to fingercomb her hair into a ponytail, tying it off with the ridiculous elastic until it's high and swingy at the back of her head. A peppy cheerleading pony that flips and swings when she shakes her head, brushing against her neck, where the bitemark Louis left is still healing. ]
I mean, does this look like me?