[Ilsa hardly ever finds herself at a loss for words, nor does she ever find herself stammering over the ones that she does have.]
I did it first... I shouldn't...
[She clears her throat again and watches as he lowers his sleeve now covered in icing...]
Here.
[Rather than offer to grab him something to wipe it off, she takes his hand in hers, lifts it, and starts to rub off the icing on his shirt with a disapproving look.]
no subject
[Ilsa hardly ever finds herself at a loss for words, nor does she ever find herself stammering over the ones that she does have.]
I did it first... I shouldn't...
[She clears her throat again and watches as he lowers his sleeve now covered in icing...]
Here.
[Rather than offer to grab him something to wipe it off, she takes his hand in hers, lifts it, and starts to rub off the icing on his shirt with a disapproving look.]
Don't get it dirty.