She couldn’t help it. She reached out an poked him.
At first, he might not have noticed. Then Dahlia was extremely aware of how much he had noticed. He looked down on her, the tall and sturdy form he had, despite having no blood rushing through his veins. He had been cold.
And she had poked him. Dahlia’s blood decided to decorate the insides of her cheeks.
“Did you need something?” he asked. Kindly, maybe.
Dahlia’s mouth worked around air. Then she nodded.
“Don’t be shy.”
He probably didn’t mean that like she acted he did. Even she knew that. But she reached out and poked the undead man once more.