(A funny discovery Maya's been making, the past few months: she can still blush. It may not be as strongly as it was when she was a gawky teenager first dating a certain tall boy who loved poetry and her eyes, but with her skin tone, there's no hiding it when she colors.
She'd thought she grew out of it years ago.)
Maya colors nicely.
"It looks pretty damn right to me," she says, her only concession to the subtle compliment (besides the blush lingering high in her cheeks) a slight duck of her head.
"--The likeness, I mean." Not the 'beautiful' part; she is not anywhere near egocentric or vain enough to make that comment.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2008-07-27 09:52 am (UTC)She'd thought she grew out of it years ago.)
Maya colors nicely.
"It looks pretty damn right to me," she says, her only concession to the subtle compliment (besides the blush lingering high in her cheeks) a slight duck of her head.
"--The likeness, I mean." Not the 'beautiful' part; she is not anywhere near egocentric or vain enough to make that comment.