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Even if he didn’t admit it to her face, Damian had already forgiven Anya for the first time she punched him.
‘First time,’ meaning there was a repeat offence. Not that she was currently owning up to it, though.
“You ran into this tree, I have no idea what you're talking about.” She was as bad a liar as she was last time.
He pointed at the sad branch lying on the ground near her feet, “I still saw you floating on that stick though!”
“Like I said, I was climbing the tree and jumped down when the branch broke!” Damian looked up at the branches way above their meager height.
“Yeah well, I bet you're a witch!” He cried out the first thing he thought of. Anya looked particularly distressed, floundering. Damian narrowed his eyes. “Witches don't exist,” he added skeptically. They were kids, but there was still a limit to how big their imaginations could be.
Immediately, she looked relieved. (Did she have any idea how expressive she was? Or how much it affected him?) “Then why would you say it?!”
“Well…” Now he was the one at a loss for words. “Hey, don't change the subject! Don't think you can get away with this!” (…he'd let her, though.)