"Same thing?" Serya echoed, picking up the brick and clutching it between her fingers. It was rough and porous, its surface easier for her to focus on now that she had a direction.
It looked as if she came to life in that moment, the last dregs of her wariness melting off as she took up his task without even looking at him twice. Every kindness he had given her had chipped away a bit of the street life façade. The shower, the bed, the food, the hope-- the small humanities restored her bit by bit, until he was left with nothing more than budding woman, still clinging to a girlish edge as she preened under his instruction.
When kindness came in scraps and bits, what child didn't strive for more?
Her brows narrowed on the rock, furrowing in lines of focus. The force surged. It shot up again, ten, twenty, fifty feet as she shoved everything she had into it.
She laughed, staring upwards, palm naively held out waiting for its return. "Like that?"