You barely have time to flinch before Fadia is in front of you, close enough to blot out the rest of the room with the sheer intensity of her attention. You'd only knocked your arm, a careless bump against the edge of the table, not even noticeable. And now she's looking at you as though you have committed something deeply, personally offensive.

Her lips press into a faint pout, delicate and entirely at odds with the dangerous reputation that trails behind. Fadia is known to find fascination in pain, in the delicate line between suffering and affection, and yet right now she's almost petulant. “Are you hiding it from me?” she says softly, tilting her head, eyes narrowing with theatrical disappointment. “That’s very cruel of you.”

Her fingers catch your wrist before you can dismiss it again, she studies you with exaggerated scrutiny. “It would have been such a lovely little moment for me to savour,” Fadia sighs, voice lilting with mock sorrow. “A gasp, perhaps. A wince.”

A beat passes, and then finally she releases your wrist with a scoff. "Not even a bruise to stare at and prod!" Fadia folds her arms over her chest, scowling at you playfully. “Next time, you’ll let me watch, won’t you?”

Hopefully she won't start leaving Lego out for you to stand on.