There’s a book in his hand. Why is there a book in his hand, certainly he didn’t ask for this? Where would it even have come from, or oh, the woman, the wench had been holding something like this, and she….
She isn’t touching him any more.
Touched his shoulder touched his hand and now he has a fuckforsaken book instead.
And she— She put him off. Of course. He should have known. Ought to have expected. The reading was a front the entire time! Telling him she would ‘read’ with him - which everybody must know means fucking! Treavor’s certain of this fact right now - in order to pull away and… and…
And make him look like an ass most likely. Well, joke’s on her, because he can do that just fine on his own.
He flings the book aside. Or. More like manages to chuck it half a foot in front of the chair. Maybe not even as far as that because maybe that dull thud was the book landing on his boot.
Reading.
Treavor jerks back, favoring the woman’s general direction with a snarl. ]
I see your game.
You might as well poison me.
[ Is she trying to…? It’s unusual that she’s in here, certainly. Should he call for Wallace? Should he demand the woman leave? Should he get up and… No, standing sounds nauseating, and there are too damned many decisions to be made, it’s too much to think about, and he slumps back in the chair, sullen. ]
no subject
There’s a book in his hand. Why is there a book in his hand, certainly he didn’t ask for this? Where would it even have come from, or oh, the woman, the wench had been holding something like this, and she….
She isn’t touching him any more.
Touched his shoulder touched his hand and now he has a fuckforsaken book instead.
And she— She put him off. Of course. He should have known. Ought to have expected. The reading was a front the entire time! Telling him she would ‘read’ with him - which everybody must know means fucking! Treavor’s certain of this fact right now - in order to pull away and… and…
And make him look like an ass most likely. Well, joke’s on her, because he can do that just fine on his own.
He flings the book aside. Or. More like manages to chuck it half a foot in front of the chair. Maybe not even as far as that because maybe that dull thud was the book landing on his boot.
Reading.
Treavor jerks back, favoring the woman’s general direction with a snarl. ]
I see your game.
You might as well poison me.
[ Is she trying to…? It’s unusual that she’s in here, certainly. Should he call for Wallace? Should he demand the woman leave? Should he get up and… No, standing sounds nauseating, and there are too damned many decisions to be made, it’s too much to think about, and he slumps back in the chair, sullen. ]
I hope you’ve enjoyed yourself.