Her mother made her into plastic: Pretty. Poised. Perfect. She had a plastic smile and plastic manners and moved with plastic care. But the Isle didn't let perfect plastic princesses stay. It lit fires to melt and mold them into warriors. Plastic did not move with fighting grace. Evie did.
:::
Evie had her face buried in Jay's neck, hidden in his hair, breathing in his scent. Jafar did something similar sometimes. This was not the same. With his father he was small and helpless and scared. Now, he was angry and powerful and whoever hurt her was going to die.