Room 512, Thursday Afternoon

[doesnotkneel]

Edward had barely cobbled together what had happened last week. The vast array of strange messages he had received yesterday had distracted him from that pursuit, however, and now it had largely fled his mind. Strange men came to Fandom, and did strange things, and that was apparently the way of the island.

So far, that made it a decent trade, at least for him.

Come Thursday afternoon, all concerns forgotten, he was back to his usual: sitting on his bed, practicing his reading while he chewed idly on a piece of bread he'd absconded with from the common room. His grasp of the letters was nearly so that he thought he could get a job on the island, which would greatly improve his fortunes. At the moment, though, it was all reading about naval battles and ships.

Not boats. Ships.

[[ door open, post open! ]]

Comments

[seveninchmotto]

"How else am I supposed to know when I can stop feeling bad about it?"

That was something closer to a joke. Go you, Isabelle.

[doesnotkneel]

"Nah, I reckon you should be feeling bad about it for the rest of your days," Edward declared, "But I will take the high road and call it settled."

[seveninchmotto]

Isabelle reached over and flicked him on the shoulder. It was more careful a gesture than it looked.

"Don't be a brat."

[doesnotkneel]

Edward didn't respond to it oddly, at least; he was feeling somewhat more comfortable around her again. "Just being earnest."

No, he was being a brat.

[seveninchmotto]

"It's indistinguishable from being a brat," Isabelle told him, in lieu of telling him how relieved she felt right now. Because no one needed to know that. "It really is."