Well, I don't have much competition here." "You don't have much competition anywhere.
Her name's Prim. She's just twelve. And I love her more than anything.
It's meant to be pretty," whispers Octavia, and I can see the tears threatening to spill over her lashes. Posy considers this and says matter-of-factly, "I think you'd be pretty in any color." The tiniest of smiles forms on Octavia's lips. "Thank you.
What about you?" "Not a clue. I keep wishing I could bake a cake or something.
Sometimes things happen to people and they're not equipped to deal with them.
Having an eye for beauty isn't the same thing as a weakness...except possibly when it comes to you.