With that riot of unruly red hair, those icy blue eyes, and the battered clothes, she’d looked more like Raggedy Ann’s evil twin. Craggedy Ann. And she’d been about as personable, too. Though she smelled kind of nice, he thought further, something spicy and exotic that reminded him of horse liniment—which was actually a compliment, because horses smelled damned nice when they were cleaned up and shiny. Patchouli, he realized, recalling the scent from the brand name of a soap they used at one of the stables where he’d trained horses. Except it smelled way nicer on Craggedy than it had on the horses. And that was really a compliment.
This is a little goofy but fun so far