01-26-2020, 12:40 AM
[align=center][div style="width: 450px; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; font-size: 9pt;"]Ooh, tea! Elwin hates the stuff.
So, naturally, once the woman that made the pot leaves the room, he looks both ways, making sure there's nobody to see him, picks up the kettle, and proceeds to pour himself a cup to guzzle down like an animal.
Elwin eyes Calvin from across the room. He's new here, so Calvin is not a face he recognizes, but everyone else seems to be familiar enough with him. Watching his face scrunch up makes him cackle, though the second he takes a sip of his own cup (rather than plug his nose and take it like a shot,) he does the exact same thing.
"Aw, that's fucking awful," he groans, pushing the cup away. All he wanted was something hot to soothe his sore throat. Should have just had some hot water--this stuff tastes like nothing but dirt! "Yeah, that shit's gross, innit? Don't know why Britain started a fucking war over it."
And then Calvin sniffles, and his inner nurse kicks in. His feet move before his brain registers it, he's invading the poor guy's bubble. "What's wrong with you?" None of this is phrased as a sympathetic inquiry, but rather a blunt demand, as if he expects Calvin to list all his symptoms right then and there. "You look like shit."
So, naturally, once the woman that made the pot leaves the room, he looks both ways, making sure there's nobody to see him, picks up the kettle, and proceeds to pour himself a cup to guzzle down like an animal.
Elwin eyes Calvin from across the room. He's new here, so Calvin is not a face he recognizes, but everyone else seems to be familiar enough with him. Watching his face scrunch up makes him cackle, though the second he takes a sip of his own cup (rather than plug his nose and take it like a shot,) he does the exact same thing.
"Aw, that's fucking awful," he groans, pushing the cup away. All he wanted was something hot to soothe his sore throat. Should have just had some hot water--this stuff tastes like nothing but dirt! "Yeah, that shit's gross, innit? Don't know why Britain started a fucking war over it."
And then Calvin sniffles, and his inner nurse kicks in. His feet move before his brain registers it, he's invading the poor guy's bubble. "What's wrong with you?" None of this is phrased as a sympathetic inquiry, but rather a blunt demand, as if he expects Calvin to list all his symptoms right then and there. "You look like shit."
[sub]the artist formerly known as hal[/sub]
Hoot gives Hal’s body a hug