#beverly002

It's barely been thirty seconds in the condo, and Giselle's regretting the impulse to come here. It's not entirely spur of the moment. She'd at least gotten dressed for the day and waited for a moment when she knew Elijah would be away. Really, though, shouldn't she take a sabbatical from honesty for a solid week after yesterday? Except, Beverly's been her best friend for years. There were very specific reasons to confide in Will and Violet with different secrets in the last year, and they'd both gone bewilderingly better than expected. Can't she attempt to at least try with Bev? Even a start? "I don't know about you, but I could really use a drink. I might have --" Whatever thought she has vanishes as Giselle's eyes narrow in confusion. "I know I didn't see you much in March, Beverly, but why is there a child on your couch?" Except, the little boy with hair even more impossibly blonde than her best friend, that beams and sprints towards them to somehow manage to hug both their legs at once? He has her golden hazel eyes, an offshoot of the Reeves green, and he's saying something that sounds horrifyingly like a muffled "you're home!"

"Oh my god, are these just Trial simulations? What is this supposed to be, envy?" Why would she be in a Trial?

There's very little that can unsettle Xavier Montgomery, particularly in a public place like the university. It's routine to visit Beverly after he'd completed his own daily work. She rarely ever is done before him and while he does tease her about it, Xavier has never been above offering to help so they can both leave before twilight. Today, he arrives with an assortment of snacks he's gathered from the cafeteria in a wrapped plate for when he manages to persuade her to take a break. A smirk that is somehow mingled with fondness curls one corner of Xavier's lips upwards as Beverly begins defending herself before he has the chance to speak. "Only an hour? How many times have I heard that before?" he muses, right before Beverly starts losing track of her own sentence. Instinctively, Xavier reaches forward to catch her arm, in case his poor friend has grown lightheaded. Instead, at her questions, he stares at her in bewilderment. "Who am I? Bev, if this is some new tactic to force me to leave you alone to your paperwork, it isn't very amusing. Don't pretend to forget me." He isn't sure whether it's a plea or a demand.