Julianne clucked her tongue, shaking her head. "Now, doncha be blamin' the alcohol." She raised up her eyebrows. "Blame the Germans, right sods they be. I'd write a letter of complaint, right to the Reichsminister. Who won't read it, but ya know, it be the act of it that counts."
Her grin was tugging up the rest of her face, and she had to swallow back a larger smile. It was still strange, to be a teaser: back before she had lost the weight, she wouldn't have dared joke with someone who wasn't an intimate friend, afraid that they would think the wrong thing of her. Now - well, either they found it funny or not. She could always turn to her piano for comfort, that she had learned. Embarrassments, stupid moments, regrets, all of it melted away. It was liberating, finally, to be this person who wasn't afraid to be more than The Nice Girl.
Though, her temper was still an uneven thing. She winced at Justin's apology; that had been on her as much as him, for being such a hair-trigger about the subject of appearance, given that it was something that was quite tender and raw with her. "No, you don't need to be apologizing neither. Ginger here's got a real red temper sometimes," she said with a sheepish grin.
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