 Wowza!
One slender hand reached automatically to her forehead, before rubbing the sore spot. Stupid armors. Stupid feet of hers that seemed to have a mind of their own half of the time. Stupid chocolate. Willow's dark eyebrows pulled together as she examined her blurry reflection on the armor in front of her.
Sitting on the floor looking upset, with a red spot on the middle of her forehead. What a lady-like behavior. Not. She probably looked like an utter moron right now. No, not probably--she, without a doubt, looked like an utter moron. Her reflection told her that much.
Good thing there was no one around. That would have been very embarrassing.
... But of course Willow's good luck could not last that much, for as soon as she sighed in relief that she was alone there, a rather tall figure walked in, and stared at one of the armors for a moment.
And then the figure turned to look at her, with a somehow dumbfounded expression, almost as if he did not understand what he was seeing. Her eyes, however, left the older boy's face, and followed the movement of his hand. What was he doing? Reaching for his wand? What for?! She never had her wand with her! It was always inside her dormitory!
Willow blinked at him with a puzzled expression all over her face. Puzzled instead of frightened. Trust her to not be afraid of someone so polite as Jean Raoul. "That would be nice," Willow muttered feeling slightly embarrassed to be caught like this. "Thank you, Jean Raoul, sir," said the girl after having used his hand to stand up.
Smoothing her robes, and then flipping her curtain of hair to the back with one swift movement, the fourth year looked up at him, and listened to his comment as her head tilted to the side a little. Armors attacking her? Snort. "Er--sure. The armors attacked me. That explains what I was on the floor." Not. But there was no need to tell him that. Let him believe that she had not been the clumsy one.
__________________  |