#chingcna

💋 SHE'S TRYING TO BE NICE AT LEAST 💋

Not Accepting.

She heard him hiss before she actually saw what happened. Didi's become something commonplace at the garage these days, always plopping herself on a stack of tires, looking entirely out of place as she waited— she had been told a number of times there was a nicer spot for customers to wait and that she could always catch a ride and come back later if she wanted. But she didn't want to.

She liked watching him work. Granted, he kept telling her all her repairs seemed to be caused by tampering rather than normal wear and tear but she just continued to try and quell his worries.

But now he had worries of his own, something in her Vespa snapping at his hand. "Oh, are you hurt?" She coos, sliding off her rubber perch to inspect.

Forrest assures her he's alright, nothing but a careless mistake, which probably bothered him more than the pain. Didi's already sat on her knees beside him, wanting to fuss— it's only a finger that's quickly turned red from being pinched, but she still lifts up his hand to press her lips to it. A small, chaste kiss is given to the bruised digit...and nothing more despite the desire to stick it in her mouth. "...Hm, there. All better?" She questions, nearly letting his hand cradle her cheek—

"...You've got grease on your face now."