I did not kiss a dead girl! I mean, she was barely dead. And I wasn’t kissing her.
Here I am minding my own business out on a hunt when I come across these seven short guys, dwarf men I guess, putting some dame, who looked asleep and alive, into a glass box. What was I supposed to do? Just look the other way?
No, I rush over before they close the lid and find she’s still warm. No one ever questions the dwarves about what they were doing, why they didn’t try to save her, and why they had a glass coffin just waiting for her. It’s always “They took her in,” “They gave her a new family,” or “They saved her from the evil queen.”
But did they save her? You’re telling me these seven dwarves knew to untie a corset that was laced too tight and pull out a poison comb that no one has ever heard of, but they didn’t know how to remove a bit of apple Snow was choking on? And they were going to display her in a glass case like they do those precious gems they mine, yet I’m the creepy one.
Again, I did not kiss a dead girl. I pulled the bit of apple out of Snow’s throat. She still wasn’t breathing, so I breathed for her a few times. Maybe it looked like a magic kiss, but it wasn’t.
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