Her fingertips skimmed the petals of a white flower inside of the pen. Glancing up to the sound of a grunt, she blushed softly, pulling her hand to her chest. "I-I'm sorry," she mumbled awkwardly, bowing fully, eyes closed.
Perhaps he wouldn't catch her white eyes; perchance he wouldn't put two and two together-- her expensive silk-- and bow down to her like others had done time and time again. Her eyes flitted up to meet sharp chestnut. With a gasp, she turned from his calculating gaze and ran off, leaving the boy to stare after her.
He knelt to look at the flower, fingers touching the gentle petal as she had only moments ago.
Eh. I'm not so sure about this one. It was an idea that died on the spot. So, in commemoration of that idea, I'm putting it up.