Rosy looks like shit. Rosy knows she looks like shit, she's looking forward to hearing about it on the way home. She wonders vaguely if someone has a hair tie she can use so she can at least tie her hair back, and maybe she can scrape the mud off her cheeks and shorts, but now there's... fuck, is that grease on Chris' hand? Great, now she's got grease in her hair, and she's just too tired to care right now.

"I don't know who ghost dad is, but I'm glad I didn't have to fight him for you too," she says, running one thumb along a light scratch on his cheek. Then she glances to the side to make sure Sy hasn't disappeared since this conversation started. It's very possible, it only takes a second for a child to get stolen. Or a 6'1" not-sleeping brother.

She snatches Chris' hand with her own, hoping it wasn't some kind of ghost snot he was raking through her hair, and sniffs it delicately. "What the hell are you getting in my hair?"