"I'm not trying to get out of anything," Mateo snaps without meaning to, already on his feet and blushing furiously as he gazes out over the edge of the Falling. "I really don't feel well. My hands are all sweaty and my mouth is dry and my face is hot." Ever's usually the hypochondriac, and his mother is a nurse, so surely he knows what kind of flu Mateo is coming down with.
It's hard to think about that, though, when suddenly Everest is imploding in on himself. "What?" he says weakly. "Ever, no. I do want to hang out with you. We've hung out loads of times, haven't we? I just... my clothes feel too small and it seems like everyone's looking at me and... è imbarazzante." It's an awkward enough admission not to be in the common tongue, evidently.
It's hard to think about that, though, when suddenly Everest is imploding in on himself. "What?" he says weakly. "Ever, no. I do want to hang out with you. We've hung out loads of times, haven't we? I just... my clothes feel too small and it seems like everyone's looking at me and... è imbarazzante." It's an awkward enough admission not to be in the common tongue, evidently.
