Post by Nicci on Jan 27, 2014 22:15:22 GMT
(Oh this post is all kinds of awful.... I hate filler posts the ones you put off forever. I might add a bit more when my brain isn't wanting to write informally)
“That’s it can’t take it anymore” Robyn blurted thinking out loud and jumping to her feet.
She had been seated the entire time but felt mentally fatigued after unnecessarily worrying about her friend Mark’s whereabouts. Glancing across to Aria who just waved her extended hand up and down in a ‘not now can’t you see this is a really interesting part’ kind of a gesture back, Robyn opened the carriage door and peered up and down the gangway.
Perceiving the coast to be clear, she slipped out, steadied her balance and unexpectedly shrunk small at the sound of a voice calling out to her from behind. Strangely she didn’t recognise the owner of the semi polite “Excuse me Miss” but the face as she turned around belonged to somebody she really didn’t want to encounter twice in such a short amount of time. It wasn't Alexis.
Robyn’s involuntary spasm of facial gurning was impossible to fully hide through a gritted frown of dislike as Blake closed the gap between them. Striding, possibly galloping as the distance quickly diminished and his imposing frame now towered over her. When did he learn to speak?
“I know you’re the girl...” he began, tilting his head for a second in perplexity as Robyn’s ‘deer in headlights’ expression caught him off guard.
“Alexis she...”
Blake’s sentences broke down as he observed the remains of redness still framing around Robyn’s confused wide blue eyes. Was she afraid of him? Whether he physically pushed her to the ground or idly stood by and allowed Alexis’s display he was equally to blame, no wonder she looked repelled to want to be anywhere else but there being spoken at.
“Here...” his final solitary word, followed by thrusting a thin sheet of folded notepaper in her general direction before rigidly turning on heel and walking back in the general direction of the prefect compartment.
Frozen in disbelief, stationary in shock and mouth rigid in agape, somehow she had managed to take hold of the offering and glance down at it.
“Tea Trolley. Just ask #32. Sorry”
In a doctorate, professional barely legible inked scribble on what appeared to be the top section of Hogwarts Express receipt paper. Sorry? What kind of twisted cryptic message was it?.
“That’s it can’t take it anymore” Robyn blurted thinking out loud and jumping to her feet.
She had been seated the entire time but felt mentally fatigued after unnecessarily worrying about her friend Mark’s whereabouts. Glancing across to Aria who just waved her extended hand up and down in a ‘not now can’t you see this is a really interesting part’ kind of a gesture back, Robyn opened the carriage door and peered up and down the gangway.
Perceiving the coast to be clear, she slipped out, steadied her balance and unexpectedly shrunk small at the sound of a voice calling out to her from behind. Strangely she didn’t recognise the owner of the semi polite “Excuse me Miss” but the face as she turned around belonged to somebody she really didn’t want to encounter twice in such a short amount of time. It wasn't Alexis.
Robyn’s involuntary spasm of facial gurning was impossible to fully hide through a gritted frown of dislike as Blake closed the gap between them. Striding, possibly galloping as the distance quickly diminished and his imposing frame now towered over her. When did he learn to speak?
“I know you’re the girl...” he began, tilting his head for a second in perplexity as Robyn’s ‘deer in headlights’ expression caught him off guard.
“Alexis she...”
Blake’s sentences broke down as he observed the remains of redness still framing around Robyn’s confused wide blue eyes. Was she afraid of him? Whether he physically pushed her to the ground or idly stood by and allowed Alexis’s display he was equally to blame, no wonder she looked repelled to want to be anywhere else but there being spoken at.
“Here...” his final solitary word, followed by thrusting a thin sheet of folded notepaper in her general direction before rigidly turning on heel and walking back in the general direction of the prefect compartment.
Frozen in disbelief, stationary in shock and mouth rigid in agape, somehow she had managed to take hold of the offering and glance down at it.
“Tea Trolley. Just ask #32. Sorry”
In a doctorate, professional barely legible inked scribble on what appeared to be the top section of Hogwarts Express receipt paper. Sorry? What kind of twisted cryptic message was it?.
!!!!!
noo.... That's mean when it does that.
