Dove could have hoped that no one would ask, but she was flat out of luck. Sandy slammed her sketchpad closed and looked up, trying to locate the source of the morose thoughts that had been flooding her brain since she had sat down to people watch and draw for a bit. She’d managed to get the table next to her outlined, but she couldn’t focus, not with swirling self-doubt, misery and thoughts of isolation technology filling her head.
Blue eyes scanned the crowd, there weren’t that many people there but there were enough that she needed to at least try and find the source. Her gaze finally fell on someone she didn’t know but knew the name of, Dove. Dove who didn’t want to be that girl. Dove who seemed to have spoken to Mason and was upset because her powers were turned off and she’d been lied to?
Without context, the thoughts were confusing and Sandy rubbed her hand over her face, trying to go back to her sketch but she’d already closed the pad and the people she’d thought about drawing - and had started to draw - were shifting positions. Damnit.
Fine.
Fine, fine, fine, fucking fine.
Though, she might not have been an empath but she had stayed alive on the streets by learning to watch people, and Dove’s body language alone told Sandy that she wasn’t just being dramatic for the sake of it. The thoughts just… now sh was listening a little more intently, her chest hurt in sympathy for someone who had found everything they’d believed wasn’t strictly the truth.
She got to her feet and crossed over to sit on the bench opposite Dove, carefully placing her sketchpad and pencil down before she sighed.
“If you don’t calm your thoughts down,” she said slowly, “You’ll never remember the poem.” Though she wondered if she could help with that, the words had to be in Dove’s head somewhere, all she’d need to do was get them and replay them to the other girl.
She tilted her head, “I’d ask you if you were okay, but the question seems sorta redundant…” But social conventions and all. “But I’m gonna anyway. You ok?”