Faced with Claire's unwavering stance and undeniable presence, Emma had no choice but to lower her voice and ask, almost pleading,
"Hilary, how are you planning to write on my face? What will you use? Can you promise not to damage my skin?"
Hilary suddenly grinned and replied brightly, "Don't worry, Auntie. I won't hurt your face. I'm just curious. I want to write something for fun."
Curious, my foot. Fun, my ass. Emma cursed silently, though a small wave of relief washed over her.
"You have to promise," she said, forcing a smile.
"I promise," Hilary nodded with complete sincerity.
"Then go ahead." Emma sighed and reluctantly leaned her face toward the little girl, closing her eyes.
Hilary brought her fingers to her lips, blew on them dramatically, then began gently tracing her fingertip across Emma's face.
She moved slowly, stroke by stroke, her expression focused and serious.
