The patterns on her skin disturb him. They might be scars. They might be moles. But he thinks he sees numbers. Sixes. Three of them.
She knows he sees them. She wants him to see them. She wants to plant a seed in his mind. Just the smallest suggestion.
She doesn’t want to scare him. Not yet. It’s too soon. He’s not ready. She’ll reveal herself slowly; shed her skin, one layer at a time.