01-29-2012, 04:29 AM
The walk had been rather pleasant as they trekked through the snow and he was beginning to think that she actually might like him. He liked her, too, for more than just her pretty looks it seemed. She was easy to talk to... Actually, not really, she was kind of a pain in the ass with all of her questions and her impossible to read tone of voice, but he liked it all the same. It was much better than stalking around alone.
Why did they have to actually find a shack? Damn it. She looked keen to it from the start, though it could have just been the fact that he already knew there was not going to be any paint inside that made him think so. She was so quickly engrossed by the prospect that any conversation they were having was over, and her eyes now scrutinized the building. She took her hand from his and he felt the stab of loss, like a spell being broken. The feeling was so strong that he just stayed where he was while she moved toward the shack's door and tried to open it.
He quickly snapped back to reality when he saw those hips swaying in front of him, and now and then her tail would swing just enough to the side to give him a real nice view of the goods. He smiled, thinking this might have been better than the walk and talk they had just shared. A moment later, though, she did something to the door to make it creak and then turned to him a bit afraid of it.
Well, here was a chance to look chivalrous. He trotted over to her as if to take all the fright away. “It's just got old hinges,” he said as he grabbed the handle and pressed his palm against the middle of the door, pushing on it. With a hefty shove the rusted hinges broke loose, the bottom of the door scraping the floorboards as it opened.
“There you go!” He said, stepping aside to let her see inside. It was dark in there, only a cone of light shone in from the open door, the windows had been boarded up years ago so only slivers of light made it through the cracks.
“Oh,” he said, trying to sound surprised. “I don't see anything...” He muttered and moved in front of her, stepping into the shack and moving out of the way so she could follow if she chose, his eyes moving around to peer into the darkness, adjusting to the room to see exactly what was in there. As he adjusted to the dark, he saw little more than an old iron stove, a table covered in cob webs and dust, a few chairs and a modest bed, stained and half rotted by time.
((wc 481))
Why did they have to actually find a shack? Damn it. She looked keen to it from the start, though it could have just been the fact that he already knew there was not going to be any paint inside that made him think so. She was so quickly engrossed by the prospect that any conversation they were having was over, and her eyes now scrutinized the building. She took her hand from his and he felt the stab of loss, like a spell being broken. The feeling was so strong that he just stayed where he was while she moved toward the shack's door and tried to open it.
He quickly snapped back to reality when he saw those hips swaying in front of him, and now and then her tail would swing just enough to the side to give him a real nice view of the goods. He smiled, thinking this might have been better than the walk and talk they had just shared. A moment later, though, she did something to the door to make it creak and then turned to him a bit afraid of it.
Well, here was a chance to look chivalrous. He trotted over to her as if to take all the fright away. “It's just got old hinges,” he said as he grabbed the handle and pressed his palm against the middle of the door, pushing on it. With a hefty shove the rusted hinges broke loose, the bottom of the door scraping the floorboards as it opened.
“There you go!” He said, stepping aside to let her see inside. It was dark in there, only a cone of light shone in from the open door, the windows had been boarded up years ago so only slivers of light made it through the cracks.
“Oh,” he said, trying to sound surprised. “I don't see anything...” He muttered and moved in front of her, stepping into the shack and moving out of the way so she could follow if she chose, his eyes moving around to peer into the darkness, adjusting to the room to see exactly what was in there. As he adjusted to the dark, he saw little more than an old iron stove, a table covered in cob webs and dust, a few chairs and a modest bed, stained and half rotted by time.
((wc 481))