#scftness

she hates these parties. hates, that james only brings her along to highlight his intelligence, that she shrinks in his presence without really intending to. that this is who she is now, with him. after another thirty minutes of him drinking too much, insulting her in increasingly less subtle insults and attempting to grope her in front of his friends. she ducks into the nearest quiet room, desperate for oxygen. she's still dripping in his condescencion, still suffocating in him--in this when the door opens. suddenly, the room floods with noise from the party and then quietens again as whoever has discovred her hiding place shuts it. she looks up and meets leopold's eyes and feels her cheeks flood with colour. embarassed, flustered-- lately he's been pulling a whole host of feelings from her that she's too terrified to examine. he notices her--talks to her, too-- and it feels good. feels illegal, too. she shouldn't like his company so much, or how easily he sees beneath her smiles or her silence. "oh--i'm sorry--- did you-- need some space or--" she clears her throat but holds his gaze. " did you follow me in here because you-- were worried because im fine james has just had a little too much to drink-- he--didn't mean it." the excuse is well rehearsed, practiced but there's no conviction behind it.