#promiseddifferent

He didn’t let her near any mirrors for several days after they returned to his apartment, not that she’d had the physical capacity to even pay attention. When she finally caught a look at herself she almost screamed - her hair would take forever to grow back and the scars on her legs would never heal right. She’d have to start wearing stockings under her signature boots like some kind of old lady.

But she was very surprised at how comfortable she felt that Bradford had seen her like this. Most people never saw her without makeup - this was a little more extreme than that. Perhaps over the past year they’d become closer friends than she realized.

Sitting up in his bed and staring down at her third cup of Ronguay Rosemarinus Tea for the day, Black Heron let out a short chuckle. Never in her entire life did she imagine being friends with such a...nerd. A dork. A dweeb. If they’d known each other in high school she had the distinct feeling she’d have shoved him into a locker.

And yet, here they were.

And thanks to drinking tea made from the plant he’d gotten with her instructions, she was healing fast and would be able to get back to her own place in no time. Or...well. She supposed she didn’t have a place anymore. Heron tapped her fingers against the mug and considered that for a moment. She hadn’t taken the time to think about how she probably lost all of her possessions in that explosion. All her designer dresses...her shoes! The iconic white gogo boots she wore every day were destroyed and her backup pair was probably ruined as well. It was a painful realization.

She sighed loudly and squished herself against the pillows. Great. Nowhere to stay, no clothes besides her partially ruined dress, and now that she was getting better, Bradford was sure to kick her out soon. If she wasn’t such a bad actress she’d consider pretending to be bedridden so she’d have somewhere to stay.

The bedroom door opened just a crack and Bradford poked his head in, taking a quick look at her and then ducking back out and closing the door behind him.

Heron raised a curious eyebrow and continued sipping at her tea. That was odd.

An hour later while she was trying to get more sleep, he did that again, though he stared at her for a bit longer before leaving. He probably thought she didn’t notice.

Ever the light-sleeper, Heron woke up when she felt his eyes on her for the third time, and at that point she knew that enough was enough. She yawned overdramatically and sat up to stare at him.

“Bradford,” she mumbled. “Are you really going to leave again without just asking what you’ve clearly been dying to ask me?”

He blushed the tiniest bit and mumbled some angry words as he finally made his way into the room and turned on the light. “I’ve not been dying to ask you anything. It’s just…”

After a moment of continued grumbling, he finally pulled out a box from behind his back and tossed it next to her on the bed. “Here.”

She looked at the box and then back to him. And then back to the box. She put down her tea and reached over to pull off the lid, letting out an excited squeal at the sight.

“My boots!” She grabbed one of them to check if they were the right size. Seeing that they were, she painfully hugged the white leather to her chest and couldn’t contain the bright smile on her face. “Bradford, you absolutely wonderful man! You didn’t even settle for knock-offs!”

He scoffed and crossed his arms over his chest. “I suppose you don’t remember the conversation we had the other night.”

“Not in the least,” Heron said as she continued rubbing her fingers against the leather. She missed how it felt. “I’m sure it killed you to spend this kind of money.”

“I had Dr. Matronic upgrade them so they’re inflammable now,” he said matter-of-factly. “So they should last you long enough to justify the cost.”

Heron’s smile grew even brighter. “Thank you,” she said genuinely.

He shrugged off the gesture and pulled a magazine out of nowhere, tossing it towards her as well. “Circle a couple of things in here you want me to get. Nothing over $50 and nothing you wouldn’t wear to a F.O.W.L. meeting.”