I Think You’re Alright || Flax & Falon
There were parts of herself that Flax wasn’t so proud of. Her temper, for one, was a bit of a problem, as was her inability to back down. But the incident in question had certainly not been her fault, nor had its consequence been warranted. She grumbled darkly as she paced into a near stupor. To those familiar with her, the happenstance of the evening wasn’t an unusual occurrence, thought its timing had been…most peculiar. A sharp pang thudded out through a bruising, split lip, throbbing wildly as a palm rose to dull it. And to think— the instigator had come out all the worse. What hurt more than bruises, however, was the fact she was trying, shoving off the slight gleam set on every pulled fist. Yet it had landed her here, in a Ministry cell that seemed almost reserved for her, petulance growing as she glowered under a harsh fluorescence. It wasn’t fair. They hadn’t listened, they-- never did. The brunette crossed her arms, fighting the artificial chill of the place, clamoring back on the cot as footsteps drew closer. As a flash of blonde caught her eye, she loosened significantly, never having been so relieved to lock eyes with her flatmate. “Err…uh…hey,” she said lamely, raising a bruised hand in greeting. “Are the planning to let me out of here now that I think you’ve paid bail or, uh... Sorry if I caused you any trouble.”
@falonburke