Laundries, Brunnhold
After Aura left, the teenager had to think about how to get out of here in a hurry or at least sooner rather than later. She couldn’t wait forever — she’d nodded, it had certainly looked as if she’d nodded — and thus, he couldn’t keep her waiting. He didn’t want to play on whatever attraction the Matron had exhibited but damnit if he could use it as leverage… It wasn’t a fun thing to consider but he really did want to talk to Aurelie.
For the time being, Fionn settled for being industrious. Sheets were hauled out and wrung, driven through a wringer with the help of another, the young man cranking the handle while he was sure that eyes were on him — appreciative eyes. He was working hard, fresh sweat beading on his skin and running down his back and his arms, muscles bunching with the effort as each sheet went through it. When he was almost done, he glanced up to find- Yes, the Matron.
Her arms were crossed, supervising their activities for all intents and purposes except that she was watching him closely and the other young man that was working with him. At the moment, Fionn suspected that he was putting on the more interesting show right now. He happened to catch her eye and despite how much it disgusted him and how many burdens he had weighing on his shoulders, he managed to flash a brief smirk at her. He looked away as soon as he’d done it, afraid that if he maintained eye contact then his self-loathing would surface on his features.
Maybe it would work. Maybe it wouldn’t. He could only hope that he managed to grease the wheels a bit — hopefully not too much though!
The sheets were carried away, carefully spread over frames to allow them to dry properly overnight; they’d be pressed and ironed in the morning, sent off to make up fresh beds while the students were at classes. The linens seemed endless but they successfully hauled and tugged them into position. There were still more tasks to do, Fionn’s back aching from all that he’d done today — he’d done work for Keyes as well — and he reached his hands up and stretched them above his head, allowing bones to crack and pop, muscles tugging to release tension. He groaned softly.
He purposely held the position, aware that there was quite a bit on display if only in silhouette, the youth rigid and attractive — he knew that he looked good and he wasn’t the only one.
The older woman appeared at his side as if by magic the moment that he allowed his body to relax again.
“You’ve done a lot of hard work. Nice to have a volunteer,” she commented, smiling a little more warmly, something conspiratorial in her gaze. “You should stop by more often…”
The blond swivelled his gaze to hers, brown meeting green. He returned her smile, running a hand through his hair, ruffling it. “I might just do that,” he retorted, gripping the front of his shirt and flapping the material a bit to circulate air to cool himself down. “Given that I’m a volunteer and I’ve done good work… can I go?”
She bit her lip, thoughtful, gaze dropping as if she was considering it deeply and the young man adjusted his stance, slipping his hands into his pockets. It allowed him to pull material taut even though it left a bitter taste in his mouth, the teenager feeling cheap but it worked. With the Matron blushing and smiling to herself, she let him go.
Time was sometimes difficult to gauge and truthfully, he had no idea how long it had been since Aurelie had actually left the laundries. Thus, he hovered indecisively after his release, knowing that he was sweaty and probably a bit disgusting right now but not fancying the prospect of a bath — not when it was supervised. He’d dealt with enough lecherous looks this evening and if he stripped in front of others, he felt that he’d be likely to inflame something. Besides, while it wasn’t quite as good as a bath, he could clean himself up in the morning in Keyes’ little washroom, that at least afforded him some privacy. Walking to the canteen, he combed his fingers forward through his hair and rolled down his shirt sleeves, making an effort to be somewhat presentable when he met up with Aurelie.
The canteen wasn’t too busy when he arrived, the line for food a short one, although his wait gave him a chance to seek and locate the girl he was looking for. Once he had his meal, he headed in her direction. There weren’t many passives at the same table as her but he considered it best to sit beside her, not too close because he didn’t want them to appear too cosy but near enough that he thought they could converse in relative privacy.
“Thank you. For waiting. I… I appreciate it,” he whispered. He was sat to her left, which allowed him to eat with his dominant hand while allowing his right one to bridge the gap between them if necessary. If her left hand was available then he’d take it, squeezing it fleetingly.
“Sorry, I probably stink. I-I-I didn’t want to make you w-w-wait long,” Fionn admitted, tucking into his meal with a tad more gusto than his companion; he felt famished but the woman hardly seemed to have touched her food.
He ate quietly for a few moments, tempering his urges so that he didn’t wolf the whole thing down. The middle Madden was definitely worried but he couldn’t ignore that he was hungry; it had been too long since he’d eaten properly — his earlier worrying has seen to that.
“I uh… I was talking about… about Lars before. I’m… I’m w-w-worried about him. No one seems to have s-s-seen him in a day or two but I d-d-did hear that a girl who was friendly with was found… drowned,” he admitted softly. That little tidbit of information certainly put a dampener on his pace. He’d heard it this evening and he’d thought it coincidence, hoped that it was but… what were the chances? He knew that the Hessean had a temper and it wasn’t as if killing was new to him.
“Stupid name, kind of floral- No! Plant-y but… urgh what was it? Heather? Ivy? No, they’re pretty names and- Clover! Do- Did you know her? Did you h-hear about her? She was friends with L-Lars. If you knew her then you’d know- He’s blond as well, about my height, handsome w-w-with a touch of pretty. P-p-people call him m-m-moony. The… the other scraps!”
Was that his voice cracking? Gods, it was! He was on the verge of tears just talking about this!
His hand, which hadn’t remained bridging the short distance between them, found its way under the table to rest upon the redhead’s knee. He managed to turn his face somewhat towards hers, eating utensils still as he sought to catch her eye — his own gaze shimmered.
“Have you… have you s-s-seen him? If not, I have to go to H-Harper or N-Niamh. She won’t want to talk t-t-to me, not after I- But I have to-"
The blond tore his gaze away, returning it to his plate as he used his fork to gather up food that wobbled precariously on its prongs.