"Watch it. I might start spending all my time in the mirror." Ah, ha. Never.

"Hey." The fingers, paler than her own, less callused, find their anchor in Steph's shirt. Her brow flickers, and though she knows there is a lot she doesn't know, as many secrets and hidden things to Steph as there are to herself (and that is a thing hard to comprehend when someone is so good and so kind), she shakes her head. Finding ways to articulate and form a rebuttal are hard when she doesn't know what she is trying to counter, but she tries anyway. "Anyone'd be lucky to be you for a day, but they wouldn't match up. We all belong in our own skins, yeah? I don't reckon this one'd be too impressed to realise who's body she's got, after the mad chats we've had. "

Was there a point she was trying to make? She can't tell. "There's nothing wrong with your body, but it belongs to you. I'm happy you're in it. It's where you've lived your stories, and where you got to be Steph. No one else could live up to being you. They don't deserve you, or your stories, or all the wonderful and terrible things you've lived through in your body. All right?"