If L was going to be out and around tonight without being a hazard to himself, he would have to take it easy until then, save his energy. He'd kept the shower short for that reason; when he got out, plenty of seats were still available in the Sun Room. Leaving his slippers on the floor, he folded himself into a corner of a long, unoccupied sofa.
The shower had gone a long way towards clearing his head, but he still felt a persistent yearning for a cup of hot, sweet tea. He knew he wouldn't be getting it.
A young woman sat in a chair to his left. He had seen her around--at this point, he suspected that he had a vague familiarity with almost everyone who had been trapped in the Institute for longer than a day or two--but he had never spoken to her. Sometimes he saw her with the young girl who'd sat near him a week earlier. That girl had promised to be quiet, and she'd been true to her word.
He was tempted to close his eyes, lean back into the sofa, and spend the rest of the stretch of time before supper turning the usual mysteries over and over in his mind. Why couldn't we get further last night? If the situation repeats itself tonight, I'll have to--
The young woman was doing something weird enough to catch his attention. Her long hair was still wet from the shower, and she was reading a book, but using the moisture from her hair to help her turn the pages. No--he observed her as closely as he could without turning his head in her direction, a long glance out of the corner of his eye. There was something wrong with the whole picture: she was doing a good job of looking like she could be reading the book, but elements seemed to be missing or inconsistent. You'd have to watch her for a while to notice, and even then....
It piqued his curiosity. Why would someone make a show of reading this way when they could just feign sleep? She didn't seem to be waiting for anyone; she didn't seem to be doing anything other than pretending to devour a book.
"Is it interesting?" Inquisitive and mild. At least his throat wasn't sore.
no subject
If L was going to be out and around tonight without being a hazard to himself, he would have to take it easy until then, save his energy. He'd kept the shower short for that reason; when he got out, plenty of seats were still available in the Sun Room. Leaving his slippers on the floor, he folded himself into a corner of a long, unoccupied sofa.
The shower had gone a long way towards clearing his head, but he still felt a persistent yearning for a cup of hot, sweet tea. He knew he wouldn't be getting it.
A young woman sat in a chair to his left. He had seen her around--at this point, he suspected that he had a vague familiarity with almost everyone who had been trapped in the Institute for longer than a day or two--but he had never spoken to her. Sometimes he saw her with the young girl who'd sat near him a week earlier. That girl had promised to be quiet, and she'd been true to her word.
He was tempted to close his eyes, lean back into the sofa, and spend the rest of the stretch of time before supper turning the usual mysteries over and over in his mind. Why couldn't we get further last night? If the situation repeats itself tonight, I'll have to--
The young woman was doing something weird enough to catch his attention. Her long hair was still wet from the shower, and she was reading a book, but using the moisture from her hair to help her turn the pages. No--he observed her as closely as he could without turning his head in her direction, a long glance out of the corner of his eye. There was something wrong with the whole picture: she was doing a good job of looking like she could be reading the book, but elements seemed to be missing or inconsistent. You'd have to watch her for a while to notice, and even then....
It piqued his curiosity. Why would someone make a show of reading this way when they could just feign sleep? She didn't seem to be waiting for anyone; she didn't seem to be doing anything other than pretending to devour a book.
"Is it interesting?" Inquisitive and mild. At least his throat wasn't sore.