paralijaen:
{` He can’t help but feel a height of amusement when Scarlett reveals herself through a breakage in the wall, pressing a palm into her chest in mock remorse when she’s consoled by the sheer aspect that her sudden company hadn’t been a specific blood relative. } I’m not praying for a bunch of wood. {` The faux-blond spits off in reply, toeing out of his clunky shoes before meandering down the extent of the hallway of concern, ceasing only when he reaches the room she’s exposed herself from. The sight that awaits him is all too disenchanting. } Shit.
{` There are more pieces than he’s expected, piled up in an eclectic mess of Scarlett’s partially-assembled attempts. He gives the project another look-over from his place in the doorway before turning on his heel in slight jest as if to imply departure.} Forget it. you’re on your own.
Wood and glass-- { ‘ she corrects him, though doesn’t bother with convincing him otherwise. While he busies himself with slipping out of his shoes (what are thooooose) she vanishes back into the room she’d earlier emerged from, but she’s back in the blink of an eye, both hands behind her back, hiding a bottle of cold beer--shit, he did like beer right?} Yeah I know, it’s bad, but you already said you’d help-- { ‘ she steps aside, making way for him to walk into the room but instead he turns on his heel. } No-nonononono. { ‘ shaking her head she steps around him obscuring his way back down the hall. } C’moooon, you’ve fixed things worse than this-- { ‘ with the flat of her palm she gently pushes against his shoulder. } go on, get in there, show me how it’s done
