[She leans back against the wall, watching him for a long, quiet moment as he slid to the ground, an awkward study in animal grace. It was a little bit of an oxymoron, but it was the only thing that fit: when he wasn't thinking, he was inhumanly quick and graceful, beautiful to watch.
He was...kind of beautiful in general. Those large, dark eyes brimming with gentle kindness, that head of thick, wavy black hair...even his crooked jaw was beautiful.
Realizing she's staring, she tries to deflect by nodding to him with a jerk of her chin.]
So what does it mean? Your--our tattoo. [She brandishes her arm to indicate the uneven armbands.] Where'd the idea come from?