summer 12, year 1
- look-alike
Rock had a tendency to forget that Nami tolerated his presence, not enjoyed it. Such was the case as he scurried around her bedroom on Sunday - laundry day - and picked at bits of her life as they pulled up her sheets.
"A portrait of yourself in your own room? I thought I was the only one!" He snatched up a dusty frame on Nami's nightstand. The woman inside had fiercely red hair. Pale skin covered high, regal cheekbones, while a deep scar puckered down her left cheek.
"That's not me, idiot." Nami snatched the photo back, eyes adverting the ones that matched her own.