Beholder

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"I'm chipping," she announces to the air, scowling critically as she lifts her hand up to the kitchen light.

Piotr hesitates, gently settling his coffee mug to the burnished cheery wood of the table. "Are you ill, katya?" he asks, judging her worriedly in the fluorescence.

She blinks, smiles almost cheekily. "Nope," Kitty enunciates. "Just ragged along the edges," and she tilts a pale, pink fingernail toward him with a waggle.

"Is this so important?" he asks cautiously.

Kitty draws her hand back, tracing the curve of her knuckle. "Well," she hesitates. "No."

"But lovely," Piotr nods gravely.

She smiles.

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Disclaimer: Still with no of the owning.