[At some point, his umbrella had gone inside-out thanks to the wind, and Connor had to fumble with it for a second to turn it into a vaguely umbrella-shaped object again. In that time, he had been pelted with rain — and though it was just a few seconds at best, it was enough to soak a good portion of his clothes. They stick to his form, darkened in color due to the moisture.
His hair had also gotten wet, undoing its usual neatness. Parts of it stick to his forehead as a result, mussed unlike she’s seen it before.
When they’re finally inside, he closes the umbrella. It looks like a sad, sorry thing.]
A little bit. I’ll be fine. But you should dry off.
[He takes the the bear from her; it’s soaking on one side.]
no subject
His hair had also gotten wet, undoing its usual neatness. Parts of it stick to his forehead as a result, mussed unlike she’s seen it before.
When they’re finally inside, he closes the umbrella. It looks like a sad, sorry thing.]
A little bit. I’ll be fine. But you should dry off.
[He takes the the bear from her; it’s soaking on one side.]
I can take care of him.