 Lovely™ | Captain Hurted | Ariana's Bane | Resident Antagonist | Unparalleled Delight
Niffler? That didn't make sense at all. "Squid," Milo said to Mr Holden. No further explanation was forthcoming. The voices from the covered easels were filling the space plenty, and the world was becoming misaligned, so his long-gone shoes were bumped far down the list of priorities.
The more the room filled up, the twitchier he got, no matter how far he let his gaze and attention wander. He rolled his knuckles as though moving an invisible coin, and blinked hard. Saw the wave from Kin of Mercer, blinked again, and did not wave back. Nor to the individual who sat beside him, nor to the moose who took the seat behind.
The moose who might appreciate the discovery that Milo's feet did not smell, at least not in the way a foot might smell after being recently released from shoe prison and kept on sock parole. It was an accidental benefit of forgoing shoes, and the trade off for having filthy socks, being that the ground itself was always so filthy.
Mr Holden's voice drew Milo back, though only partway. Milo was not a history detective. Nor a lady. Nor a gent. It was as good an excuse as any to stop listening, to kneel-shuffle around on his chair and get a good look at the others in the room - though looking away as quickly as anyone looked back at him. One word had pierced the veil.
"I have a theory," Milo stated, eyes landing on the one who kept dropping his pen (Daniel). He watched it drop a second time, kept his eyes riveted to it, and abandoned whatever follow-up remark he had been about to make, had he actually been about to make one. With his own pen, he tapped his desk. Tap tap tap... Tap... Tap...tap...tap... Tap tap...tap...TAP.
__________________ Days of Potter 2023:___________________________ Which Bertie Botts Flavour Are You?
You are Chocolate! |