[ It's whatever déjà vu is in reverse. Luther's sudden yelp of outlandish surprise and — her well beyond those gates, and those cloistered high halls, understanding of it now as — primly horrified lack of his knowledge how to even process it except running the opposite direction. But she can see it. A hundred, a million times over. How when he was young, his neck used to go pink, and the tips of his ears, eyes wide, when some girl left a kiss print or a spray of perfume, or even more outlandishly, with only the boys ever had to deal with, someone sent a pair of their underthings.
She'd always hated that for the stupidest of obvious reasons. But it'd only made her baited teasing that much sharper. Her disdain. Her rejection of those idiot people.
There's a burr in it, but it's further away.
Isn't it?
(Except she'd never consider doing for Bea, would she? Not even now? Not even just because they'd be the worst match on the planet. Or that Luther's never coming out of that walled tower.
Which just made her an idiot still. Too.) ]
It's cute that you think you get a vote when Bea and her machinations are concerned.
no subject
She'd always hated that for the stupidest of obvious reasons.
But it'd only made her baited teasing that much sharper.
Her disdain. Her rejection of those idiot people.
There's a burr in it, but it's further away.
Isn't it?
(Except she'd never consider doing for Bea, would she? Not even now?
Not even just because they'd be the worst match on the planet.
Or that Luther's never coming out of that walled tower.
Which just made her an idiot still. Too.) ]
It's cute that you think you get a vote when Bea and her machinations are concerned.