[ Like the plant. His mom had specifically named him after ginger juice because of his hair color, that delicious shade of blond - ]

Um.

[ He shifts on his feet as though uncertain of his answer, now that it’s his turn. ]

I… can’t tell if you mean what you say, but I think you do. And I don’t know if your smiles are real, though I want to say they are. I can’t read you with any certainty.

[ Against the unknown, it’s best not to show fear, but. ]

I’m scared of you. … I think.