great english qualifier | selena & edison
Somehow passing through the door shed Edison’s of the small throng of people that had been following him. They hadn’t continued after him & were left stranded in the marble entryway like pixies just beginning to remember they had other things to do. That is to say, the small group of assistants, journalists, & Cannons personnel hovered for a moment, quills in hand before dispersing in seven different directions. Instilling said rule was one of the smartest decisions Edison had ever implemented & arriving early enough before the match start time meant he got the owner’s box to himself for a good quarter hour before others trickled in for the game between Chudley & Puddlemere. Normally it might’ve been forty-five minutes, but seeing as it was a rivalry game, folks tended to arrive earlier, driven by their own internal buzz of excitement. At one point in his life, Edison had suffered the same affliction, now however he moved out of routine but was regrettably anticipating something other than the start of the match. A bout against P.U. meant Selena Newf would be in attendance. Since the season had begun, the Cannons had yet to have a match with Selena’s team. This was something that Edison both looked forward to & worried over. That was probably why his first order of business was to see about getting a glass in his hand. Beating Selena even once meant constantly having to perform at a higher & higher level to best the standard that was right behind you. Even after two successful years, Edison had yet to shake the feeling that he & his Cannons didn’t belong at the top & was merely there to entice Newf & her P.U. squad like a steak left at the top of a pole for a lion. Eventually the steak would get got. In the meantime, Edison would have to go on pretending he was cocksure. Behind them, the door was beginning to open & Edison indulged himself in sip of liquid courage. “Was beginning to think I’d be the only sap to show up to this low-stakes scrimmage.”
