Standing outside his hut and knocking on the door with a haphazard bunch of flowers in her hand, she was ready for that damn waiting to expire. It was long past time, already.
She was wearing long boots that went to her knees and a faded pink denim skirt atop, frayed at the bottoms. Atop that, the clothing box had been kind enough to grand a top that fastened at her neck, all vertical stripes in bright colours and atop that, a light blue shirt to keep her pale shoulders from freckling. While they might be endearing on Peter, they weren't on her.
And here she was, knocking away, pacing mildly to expend some energy as she did.