[ What a thing to read the second before a gangly, unkempt, red-faced Choso sways in through the sliding double doors. Marcille only sees him in her periphery, but her eyes are rereading that one word over and over again, waiting for it to vanish or become another name somehow. Except it doesn't.
You.
Her????
She hears Choso's voice and slowly turns her head to look at him like a rusted gimbal. Her eyes are wide as saucers, her face is completely red, and her heart feels like it'll beat out of her chest. And there he is, looking like a drunk mess, and he likes her. (And other people too, but still.)
Sorry, but she's not speaking first. She's just staring at him with her mouth open. ]
no subject
You.
Her????
She hears Choso's voice and slowly turns her head to look at him like a rusted gimbal. Her eyes are wide as saucers, her face is completely red, and her heart feels like it'll beat out of her chest. And there he is, looking like a drunk mess, and he likes her. (And other people too, but still.)
Sorry, but she's not speaking first. She's just staring at him with her mouth open. ]