(Disclaimer: Do I even need to bother? They're not mine. Or I wouldn't be writing this.)
(Note: This is what spending too long working on Trig homework does to my muse.)
The left side of her face is almost entirely purple, mingling with traces of blue and black.
She reaches up and touches it, gingerly, wincing, as she sits.
"Still got all your teeth?" I ask, trying to lighten the situation as I hand her a bag of ice wrapped in a towel.
"Shut up, John."
"You took that punch and you've got the shiner to prove it – what's bad about it?"
"I'll wake up and it'll look like shit – when I have to be in court," she says, annoyed.
"Did I ever tell you that you look good in purple?"