"Actually, I find you quite interesting." Fifteen said halfway through, suddenly raising her eyebrows, "What's wrong with your face?"
She hadn't noticed it before—standing on his left now, she found a scratch an inch long on the right side of his face.
This was obviously a recent injury; she didn't remember him having a wound on his face.
Phoebe raised her hand to touch her face, "You hit it."
"Me?" Fifteen was taken aback, "When did I hit you?"
"Last night," Phoebe replied.
Fifteen's small mouth gaped open as she looked at his injury, thought for a moment, and then raised her right hand to look at the ring on her hand.
She hit him?
Last night!
"Don't think about it; you definitely can't remember... you punched me once, and I teased you once, so let's call it even." Phoebe chuckled, pushing open the door, "Get some sleep early; our plan starts tomorrow. In my estimation, Satan won't be easily hooked; it seems we'll be spending a few days with the child."
"Phoebe!"
