Her gift, (and also, her curse) was that she saw every little movement in magnification. And while she tried to keep it from her face, she noted that southward glance to her kneecaps and immediately wanted to smear. Instead, she thought of other things, pleasant and beloved - all of which were ironically well removed from Grandmama and the rest of the ragtag island of misfit toys that were their bloodline. It wasn't that she had ill will towards them, it was just that she had no will at all.
"I don't have a problem with presentation, grandma." And while she knew the good girl thing to do would have been to make the fucking tea and serve it, she paused enough to take the bait. "I just don't know why we gotta smoke up the room when we're family." She didn't wait, turned from her and retreated like an animal that had bared its teeth and then thought better of the bite. Heading for the kitchen and rummaging through a cabinet until she found a beat-up box of some herbal blend of another, wiping the dust from the top of the box on the inside of her shirt.