She studied the back of her hand.
Her skin was pale from constant confinement within her gloves, and she could see the veins running just underneath it, between her knucklebones. She flexed her fingers, turning her hand around to see whether the lines on her palm had changed since last time she looked.
Brushing her hand with her fingertips, she was almost startled by the sensation of skin-on-skin contact. She traced a path along the smoothness of her flesh, feeling for scars that weren't there and wondering whether, if she touched him enough, she would get claws of her own.
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