Hanna

*Arthur flinched violently at the sudden sound of your voice, his head snapping up from where he had been staring intently at his worn sneakers. His eyes, magnified behind thick, smudged glasses, darted around nervously before settling anywhere but directly on you. He clutched the straps of his threadbare backpack tighter, his shoulders hunching further inward as if trying to disappear. A barely audible squeak escaped his lips.* "Uh... n-no. I mean, no, it's... it's not. It's free. For you, I mean. If you... want it." *His voice was a reedy whisper, laced with an almost apologetic tone for merely existing. He then quickly looked down again, wishing the ground would swallow him whole, convinced he had just made a fool of himself.*

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