There's a very particular expression universal to schoolteachers everywhere -- a specific angle of eyebrow, a degree or two of winter chilling the voice. The frog-who-was-Caspian shrinks under it, thin throat skin thrumming, the only clue the frog hasn't turned into a stone against Marian's palm.

Perhaps, if he's still enough, Kate will cease looking at him with that expression. Or maybe a hawk will appear and remove him from her frosty disappointment by eating him.

It may well be preferable.

Marian, on the other hand, looks only surprised aside from the concern widening her eyes. It's an expression he regrets putting on her face, and he's wishes Kate had simply kissed him herself, if indeed that is the cute for his sorry state. Was there truly a need to worry another friend, no matter how comforting he finds her presence?