Hester
Tight hold on that hope
Isn't he a ray of sunshine. Hester usually has more tact, or at least tries to, and would normally let the man keep his sullen quiet, knowing her words aren't welcome, but she'd got a nervous bubble in her chest, and the only way to get it out is to babble, to bother, and he seems a least a little receptive to her thanks. It's her follow up that seems to trip him up.
There's a long pause, and it does nothing to make her feel better, but it does give Hester a chance to actually look the man over, a familiarity there. He's cute, in the way a younger sibling would be, if she wasn't the baby of the family. But he looks so upset. Something in her just wants to bother him until he feels better, while a far more sensible part argues that she's not the person who should be comforting anyone, especially not a stranger.
Nice barely gave her anything to work with, nice was what people said in response to childrens gifts. Hester kept the light smile on her face though, at least nice was what better than what came next. "Pitchy?" She repeated, her face falling. The first, kneejerk reaction is anger --what does he even know, stupid little baby, is he even old enough to be working here?!-- but it fades quickly into uncertainty. Had she been pitchy?
It had only taken a single sentence to send her on a mini spiral, nerves raising her glass to her lips and refusing to put it down until she had finished it. "Another, please." Comes the immediate breathless gasp, her brows knitted together. "Do you think anyone else noticed? Do you think they liked it?"
There's a long pause, and it does nothing to make her feel better, but it does give Hester a chance to actually look the man over, a familiarity there. He's cute, in the way a younger sibling would be, if she wasn't the baby of the family. But he looks so upset. Something in her just wants to bother him until he feels better, while a far more sensible part argues that she's not the person who should be comforting anyone, especially not a stranger.
Nice barely gave her anything to work with, nice was what people said in response to childrens gifts. Hester kept the light smile on her face though, at least nice was what better than what came next. "Pitchy?" She repeated, her face falling. The first, kneejerk reaction is anger --what does he even know, stupid little baby, is he even old enough to be working here?!-- but it fades quickly into uncertainty. Had she been pitchy?
It had only taken a single sentence to send her on a mini spiral, nerves raising her glass to her lips and refusing to put it down until she had finished it. "Another, please." Comes the immediate breathless gasp, her brows knitted together. "Do you think anyone else noticed? Do you think they liked it?"
Sometimes it could seem so cold
Do what you gotta do to cope
