She laughed sympathetically. “I’m the same. My mom was better at fixing things than I am. I try not to sew anything much, but most times I have no choice. Jacob’s a kid, y’know? He’s bound to tear his shirts or skin his knees playing around. And if not him, me being the clumsy idiot I am.” Another, softer laugh and she slid off the counter and onto her feet. “Forget riding horses. I’ve only been on one once before in my life and it just stood there and took a really large piss.” Recalling the memory made her shake her head quickly.
“I’ll be right back, then.” She skittered off quickly, on her tip-toes, to her bedroom, rummaging through her back pack wedged under her bed. She found her sketchbook and returned to the kitchen flipping through it. Once finding one of her favorite drawings, she turned to show it to him.
Before Eros can comment on her self-deprecation, he can’t help but snort at her recount of her childhood experience. “Better a large piss than bucking you clear off the saddle, don’t you think?” he calls after her retreating form, washing the tomatoes and carefully peeling them one by one. In the midst of this, the girl returns, and he peers down at the sketchbook in her hands. “You’re very talented,” he comments. “I know of gods who can’t draw a straight line, let alone the shape of a woman.”