you may say that i'm a dreamer
There's a lot of passive aggression and weird, pent-up resentment that is totally wasted on you.
Well not totally. You're astute enough to figure out that Jigano and Wessex don't like each other, even without the older woman's confirmation of that fact. You wave to Jigano as he walks away: "'k! We'll come soon!" you agree brightly, before turning to the blonde who has sat beside you.
"I saw a lotta interestin' things. Mostly people - this seems like a central meetin' hub. An' I drew some of 'em. Wanna see?" Holding up your notebook for her, you display the previous pages. They are littered with surprisingly skillful drawings of people's faces, hands, feet, bags, shins- random disembodied body parts and items, whatever caught your attention at the time.
You don't have a chance to explain the method behind your madness, because there's another person who Wessex seems to know, or who seems to know Wessex, or maybe both. Though they don't greet each other verbally, the non-verbal exchange is obvious enough, not unlike the sort of greeting predators may give one another, you think. Leaning toward Wessex, you question curiously (and with no attempt to lower your voice): "Is that someone else that you don't like?"
Well not totally. You're astute enough to figure out that Jigano and Wessex don't like each other, even without the older woman's confirmation of that fact. You wave to Jigano as he walks away: "'k! We'll come soon!" you agree brightly, before turning to the blonde who has sat beside you.
"I saw a lotta interestin' things. Mostly people - this seems like a central meetin' hub. An' I drew some of 'em. Wanna see?" Holding up your notebook for her, you display the previous pages. They are littered with surprisingly skillful drawings of people's faces, hands, feet, bags, shins- random disembodied body parts and items, whatever caught your attention at the time.
You don't have a chance to explain the method behind your madness, because there's another person who Wessex seems to know, or who seems to know Wessex, or maybe both. Though they don't greet each other verbally, the non-verbal exchange is obvious enough, not unlike the sort of greeting predators may give one another, you think. Leaning toward Wessex, you question curiously (and with no attempt to lower your voice): "Is that someone else that you don't like?"
