I've got an adult mind and I'm doing a lot of adult things, but nothing reminds me that I'm very much still a kid in this world than now. The skirt is laced up thankfully, but it is utterly blasphemous that a man has trespassed into the space where women typically touch up their makeup, change, and rest themselves.
He's giving me a lecherous look that makes my stomach do backflips of disgust inside of me. I'm 11 years old in this body and this man is in the latter half of his twenties. Broad, thick brows sit over eyes that look at me the way I'd look at a tasty piece of fried chicken.
"Certainly a member of the royal guard would know better than to trespass into the lady's room," I say, taking a seat as if I'm not terrified to my bones.
