#chat:puck

“Well -- that doesn’t look good--” her eyes widening at the sight of students running out of the shack, their faces pale as they headed right past her.

It was a miracle that she wasn’t on the ground yet, running about back and forth with her hair a mess on the top of her head, as she attempted to make herself slightly presentable at the sound of the doorbell. She was barely hanging on. Packing wasn’t as terrible as she’d thought it be, but it wasn’t a walk in the park either. It had been a miracle that she had convinced her parents that she could do this, too many hands in the kitchen was never a good idea and it seemed fitting that she’d do it by herself. That however didn’t stop her from inviting the boy on the other end of the door, “hey stranger--” 

“Walk with me? I want to go down to the pitch one more time--” stretching out a hand for him to take, “and I might have -- just maybe wanted to get some time with you, before I give into the horrific misery that is packing--” 

“Hey --” 

“Do you need something? Some would say that staring is rude--” she could feel the gaze on her, she had hoped that whoever it was would find someone else to fixate on, but by the looks of it -- they weren’t going anywhere, finally lifting her gaze from her book - her gut wrenched at the sight of her visitor. 

Texts @ Puck