[Lucille holds his hand between both of hers, as though her touch alone might heal the bruises that mar his skin. Her mania is forgotten, replaced by that familiar feeling of concern for her boy.
She doesn't like how unconcerned he seems. Bruising from the cold...probably isn't good.]
Shall we go inside? The fireplace is burning, and I have hot cocoa and a blanket. They should warm your poor hands.
[She isn't even going to acknowledge the fact that she left the fireplace burning whilst succumbing to her rage. Also, Murdermom specifically sourced the cocoa for her kids, because she is a Good Murdermom.]
no subject
She doesn't like how unconcerned he seems. Bruising from the cold...probably isn't good.]
Shall we go inside? The fireplace is burning, and I have hot cocoa and a blanket. They should warm your poor hands.
[She isn't even going to acknowledge the fact that she left the fireplace burning whilst succumbing to her rage. Also, Murdermom specifically sourced the cocoa for her kids, because she is a Good Murdermom.]