Sure! I'll go on the idea of a "default" mode for it since how she reacts to the first one might depend on who she's with and how much she knows about them.
— a cup breaking and sharply cutting her palm, when she is in attentive company?
There's a split second between the cup breaking and the pain that blooms from her palm that several things happen at once. She doesn't have to feign the pain--it's a physical sensation, after all, she can still feel pain, but her gaze flickers up taking stock of the company in front of her as she gives a sharp gasp and clutches her hand to her chest. Her expression quickly morphs into one of pained distress as attention begins to turn towards her.
Blood wells up beneath her fingers and she juts out her lower lip, forcing it to tremble. "I'm so sorry!" She bursts out, cutting off the first concerned voice before it can finish asking if she's alright.
"Oh, please-- A bandage? Something? It's going to get on my dress!" There's a brief pause of surprise from those around her and Winnie's mind quickly whirls through that response, breaking it down in her head. Not concerned enough? Or concerned about the wrong thing? It was a very expensive dress, and blood was so hard to get out of cloth to begin with.
But she holds her hand out, trembling as she lets them examine it, turning her face away. "Oh, no, I can't bear to look-- is it terrible? Will it scar? Oh..." She sniffles, forcing tears to gather in the corners of her eyes and blinking them away, lower lip forced out into a pout.
"Can I sit? Just for a moment--I'm so sorry about the mess. I'll take care of-- Oh no, no, I insist!"
As the other assures her it's alright, someone else will take care of it, Winnie furrows her brow and frowns, before giving a reluctant nod. "If you're sure... Oh, I feel a little light..."
— a cup breaking and sharply cutting her palm, when she is alone and confident she's not watched?
She's not sure at all what causes it, but the sound of breaking glass and the sudden pain that stings at her palm makes her flinch and look down, a frown forming automatically.
There's no one else home, however, the door locked tight and the windows drawn. She allows her face to smooth back out into a passive look, uncurling her fingers to see the bit of glass sticking out of her skin. It aches in a distant way, but she regards it with a mild curiosity, bringing her hand up to squint at it, seeing the way it splits her flesh around it.
Carefully she reaches out with her free hand to pry the shard away, flinching slightly in pain before she drops the glass to the floor. She can pick it up later. Blood oozes slowly through the wound and she considers it a moment before she wanders to the nearest mirror in the room.
Her own face stares back at her, cool and calm, her eyes carefully sweeping over the lines of her own face. Her fingers curl into her palm, pressing forcefully against the wound and making her face contort into a grimace of pain. She holds it there for a few seconds, examining her own face until she releases the pressure and her face relaxes with it.
After a moment she wrinkles her nose and furrows her brow, attempting to mimic the expression. Again Winnie holds it for a few seconds before relaxing her, then presses on the wound again. This continues for a minute or so more until she feels-- Well, not satisfied, not really, but reasonably sure she could make the expression again rather accurately. There were times where an exaggerated reaction to pain might be expected even when she doesn't feel that particularly pained, so she catalogues the expression in her head with a little nod to herself.
Absently she moves to push some hair from her face and then pauses, realizing she's left a sticky red streak against the side of her hair with the action; the wound, still slowly bleeding, had been momentarily forgotten. "Right. Have to clean that," she mutters to herself, pulling the edges of her skirt up so she could clench it tightly in her fist against the wound. A new one would have to be bought, she supposes, but it's quicker this way until she could find a bandage and something to sweep the glass up with.
no subject
— a cup breaking and sharply cutting her palm, when she is in attentive company?
There's a split second between the cup breaking and the pain that blooms from her palm that several things happen at once. She doesn't have to feign the pain--it's a physical sensation, after all, she can still feel pain, but her gaze flickers up taking stock of the company in front of her as she gives a sharp gasp and clutches her hand to her chest. Her expression quickly morphs into one of pained distress as attention begins to turn towards her.
Blood wells up beneath her fingers and she juts out her lower lip, forcing it to tremble. "I'm so sorry!" She bursts out, cutting off the first concerned voice before it can finish asking if she's alright.
"Oh, please-- A bandage? Something? It's going to get on my dress!" There's a brief pause of surprise from those around her and Winnie's mind quickly whirls through that response, breaking it down in her head. Not concerned enough? Or concerned about the wrong thing? It was a very expensive dress, and blood was so hard to get out of cloth to begin with.
But she holds her hand out, trembling as she lets them examine it, turning her face away. "Oh, no, I can't bear to look-- is it terrible? Will it scar? Oh..." She sniffles, forcing tears to gather in the corners of her eyes and blinking them away, lower lip forced out into a pout.
"Can I sit? Just for a moment--I'm so sorry about the mess. I'll take care of-- Oh no, no, I insist!"
As the other assures her it's alright, someone else will take care of it, Winnie furrows her brow and frowns, before giving a reluctant nod. "If you're sure... Oh, I feel a little light..."
— a cup breaking and sharply cutting her palm, when she is alone and confident she's not watched?
She's not sure at all what causes it, but the sound of breaking glass and the sudden pain that stings at her palm makes her flinch and look down, a frown forming automatically.
There's no one else home, however, the door locked tight and the windows drawn. She allows her face to smooth back out into a passive look, uncurling her fingers to see the bit of glass sticking out of her skin. It aches in a distant way, but she regards it with a mild curiosity, bringing her hand up to squint at it, seeing the way it splits her flesh around it.
Carefully she reaches out with her free hand to pry the shard away, flinching slightly in pain before she drops the glass to the floor. She can pick it up later. Blood oozes slowly through the wound and she considers it a moment before she wanders to the nearest mirror in the room.
Her own face stares back at her, cool and calm, her eyes carefully sweeping over the lines of her own face. Her fingers curl into her palm, pressing forcefully against the wound and making her face contort into a grimace of pain. She holds it there for a few seconds, examining her own face until she releases the pressure and her face relaxes with it.
After a moment she wrinkles her nose and furrows her brow, attempting to mimic the expression. Again Winnie holds it for a few seconds before relaxing her, then presses on the wound again. This continues for a minute or so more until she feels-- Well, not satisfied, not really, but reasonably sure she could make the expression again rather accurately. There were times where an exaggerated reaction to pain might be expected even when she doesn't feel that particularly pained, so she catalogues the expression in her head with a little nod to herself.
Absently she moves to push some hair from her face and then pauses, realizing she's left a sticky red streak against the side of her hair with the action; the wound, still slowly bleeding, had been momentarily forgotten. "Right. Have to clean that," she mutters to herself, pulling the edges of her skirt up so she could clench it tightly in her fist against the wound. A new one would have to be bought, she supposes, but it's quicker this way until she could find a bandage and something to sweep the glass up with.