 Wowza!
Marshall couldn't fathom why would anyone punished the school-aged people to sit through this entire ordeal; perhaps this was some sort of new form of detention? It couldn't be, because admittedly, the brats looked perfectly pleased. When Sienna directed herself to him, Marshall looked her way but not precisely at the woman--instead, he focused on her golden hair. Making no eye-contact still seemed like a good idea to him, "Ah," He began, feeling his throat tighten. He cleared it, as he rubbed a faintly flushed cheek, "Yes, yes, indeed. It's been eleven years, and it doesn't quite feel like it," The layout editor concluded, his Irish accent making an appearance at the end of his comment.
Hmm. Balling a hand into a fist, Marshall coughed into it. "I wouldn't know, Mister Hoshino," Responded the lanky man with a small frown, "But I think I saw, um, Lyric?" What's-Her-Name? Marshall didn't really know her, but that sports writer looked mean. "And Hunter Bones? arrive right after the security folk let me in? Yes, those two."
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