patience wanes, kept in check ever by disciplined self control that frays only at the edges and allows annoyance to creep occasionally into her tone. she has plenty else with which to concern herself, plenty she is leaving undone — and that she is sure to regret not doing. yet the man has yet to utter a single word that she believes, and while it’s entirely not her responsibility, neither can she seem to walk away. she’d have called security, save that he had apparently gotten past them, his ruse somehow satisfactory to them. a lot of good they would be. and so here she is, chaperoning.
not that she makes much of a chaperone, as she sits with hands folded in her lap as he tinkers. she’s not sure if he’s actually doing something or merely putting on a show to prove his wall inspector assertion. he’s fighting a losing battle, if so.
❛ how did you convince security to buy the whole inspector thing, anyways? they’d have had any such appointments on file. ❜ there are more important questions, such as why, and such as what he’s doing ( both acutely in this moment and in general ), but having concluded that she can trust nothing he says, elizabeth supposes she might as well save her breath.
// @lcgends, semi-plotted starter.
