[ something come to sweep along her boot and her first instinct is to stamp her foot down. the cane lands stuck between her sole and the hardwood floor, and her gaze follows it up to the hand holding it. she puts two and two together slowly; the sad truth is that people with these kinds of disabilities don't last long where she's from. maybe the topsiders have better fortune, but that depends on their, well, fortunes. ]
[ still, empathy twists her gut and her frown. ]
Shouldn't people like you have a service animal or something? [ not the most tactful, this one. she releases the cane from underfoot and makes a guess at what he was going for, filling his cup on the table with the pitcher of beer she'd already had in her hand. ]
no subject
[ still, empathy twists her gut and her frown. ]
Shouldn't people like you have a service animal or something? [ not the most tactful, this one. she releases the cane from underfoot and makes a guess at what he was going for, filling his cup on the table with the pitcher of beer she'd already had in her hand. ]