Marc blinked, staring at me like a dog trying to process thunder. I knew he was dumber than a bag of bricks, but the look on his face just confirmed it.
"…'Attie?" he grunted, his accent showing through with just that one word. With just my name.
There it was. Recognition, too late to matter. His jaw slackened as confusion warred with disbelief—and then he smirked at me. Looking me up and down, taking in the dress, the bare feet, the pigtails, all of it.
"You look… different," he smirked like giving me a compliment was something that I should swoon over.
My smile, in return was like a razor learning how to curve. If I could give anyone death by a thousand papercuts, it would be this Shit Stain. But given his list, I was starting to rethink my stance on it.
After all, I did grant wishes, right?
