<strong>Name:</strong>Cinnamon<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Park<br/><strong>Tagged:</strong>Them, Hare & anyone who's eavesdropping<br/><br/>The girl stretched high with a squeal as the Hare's hand caught her hair; legs spilling out to either side of his body so that his legs were framed by the soft curve of her thighs as those tear stained cheeks gleamed in the dim afternoon light while he fished within his pocket.  Pain painted clearly across her youthful visage; a panicked glance cast towards Them as if she might ask for help that never came, because he was chiding her.<br/><br/>"I'm sorry, Hare.  I'm sorry," the tart whimpered as her tears disappeared into the endless sea held within the glass confines and she imagined that she could hear the roll of waves there within that tiny bottle's depth.  The sad truth was that she wasn't sorry, not really.  She was only sorry that she'd gotten caught.  Because getting caught meant that she'd have to be punished.<br/><br/>But then he went and said something that she could have hugged him for, and did, suddenly in an awkward lunge of arms against his middle, clinging far too tightly.  Most might have found the not quite ripe and ready statement a slant against them, but not Cinnamon.  It meant that no one would be forcing her into anything anytime soon, at least, that was how she took it and surely whatever punishment that he devised for her errant ways wouldn't be so terrible as that.<br/><br/>So she clung and she slumped and she let his bottle devour her tears where they fell and listened.