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Presley Black Great, even little Elise Fairfeild had noticed Presley's sour mood. Presley smiled cheerily at the girl. "I should be asking you that! Why haven't you been to the healer yet? That looks pretty nasty." She gestured to the girls arm, all bandaged up.
Elise shrugged, wincing. That had hurt. Note to self: Don't shrug with a broken arm that hasn't been casted yet. Plastering the smile back on her face, Elise looked up to face Presley.
"I can't seem to find her," she confessed.
"But Kurumi bandaged this up to keep it stable for now." She'd had to say the name carefully. Cause she had a tendency to say Krummy. And that wasn't her name.
"How was your summer?" she asked, cocking her head to one side.