The Stack Book Exchange, the Stacks
Yaris 35, 2717 - Midday
Yaris 35, 2717 - Midday
Cerise had started on the first of the two books as soon as she got back to her room.
She hadn't intended to, really, but after that scene she hadn't wanted to hang around the Stack Exchange any longer than it took to purchase the books in her hand. Cerise was fairly certain she had been charged extra, but she considered it a fee for the trouble and had paid it happily. It hadn't sat right with her the whole walk back to her room. Only when she'd dropped her things onto the floor and shed the outer layers of her uniform at last did she realize what it was.
Cerise hadn't even been frowned at, and she'd hit him full in the face. Normally, someone at least cared that she'd done it--there were letters from the school, and a lecture from any and all adults present. Antoinette had a lot to say on the subject of Cerise Vauquelin and the end of her fists, even though she'd only ever hit Antoinette the once and the other girl was irritating every day of her life. Presumably since birth.
The two novels were sitting there in her bag, and she knew she should study for midterms. That would have been the smarter, wiser course of action. She just couldn't get that final smirk out of her head. Fighting it would be unproductive; she would finish the books, and she would be proven correct, and that would be that. She didn't really need him to know she had been right, as long as she did. It wasn't like she really wanted to hit him again--just once had been plenty. She certainly didn't want to see his face again.
Although... Now, in the privacy of her own room, Cerise did allow herself a little grin. Emiel had a very nice face, even if he had repeatedly used that mouth to talk at her rather unpleasantly. She even liked the piercings, she thought. Flashy but--they looked nice, didn't they? That was the point, after all, wasn't it?
The textbooks she needed to open were on her desk. The novels were spilling out of her bag and onto her bed. The choice, she thought, was rather clear. She would start with Murder Beneath Vienda, because she had already done so at the store (maybe she had been reading, after all); then she would read the other one. And it would not be any better, at all.
She hadn't intended to, really, but after that scene she hadn't wanted to hang around the Stack Exchange any longer than it took to purchase the books in her hand. Cerise was fairly certain she had been charged extra, but she considered it a fee for the trouble and had paid it happily. It hadn't sat right with her the whole walk back to her room. Only when she'd dropped her things onto the floor and shed the outer layers of her uniform at last did she realize what it was.
Cerise hadn't even been frowned at, and she'd hit him full in the face. Normally, someone at least cared that she'd done it--there were letters from the school, and a lecture from any and all adults present. Antoinette had a lot to say on the subject of Cerise Vauquelin and the end of her fists, even though she'd only ever hit Antoinette the once and the other girl was irritating every day of her life. Presumably since birth.
The two novels were sitting there in her bag, and she knew she should study for midterms. That would have been the smarter, wiser course of action. She just couldn't get that final smirk out of her head. Fighting it would be unproductive; she would finish the books, and she would be proven correct, and that would be that. She didn't really need him to know she had been right, as long as she did. It wasn't like she really wanted to hit him again--just once had been plenty. She certainly didn't want to see his face again.
Although... Now, in the privacy of her own room, Cerise did allow herself a little grin. Emiel had a very nice face, even if he had repeatedly used that mouth to talk at her rather unpleasantly. She even liked the piercings, she thought. Flashy but--they looked nice, didn't they? That was the point, after all, wasn't it?
The textbooks she needed to open were on her desk. The novels were spilling out of her bag and onto her bed. The choice, she thought, was rather clear. She would start with Murder Beneath Vienda, because she had already done so at the store (maybe she had been reading, after all); then she would read the other one. And it would not be any better, at all.
