Dinner at Eight (fredstermclair)
[Time passed, soon it was 8:05, 8:10, 8:30. Where was that boy? Freddie was no where to be found and Clara simply stood there furious that she was being stood up. Finally at 8:30 she gave up and began walking away. As she turned the corner.]
[As she did so however, she was a step from running into the mysterious hunter who nearly crashed into her. Freddie looked up at the confused woman, his clothes were a mess, torn and ripped in almost every concievable way. His face was cut along the cheek and in his hand a large bloodied machete was shaking slightly. He knew she’d be here right now, he needed to warn her. They were going for her.]
So much for him being too good to fall into a ditch. Time trickled on and on, and soon, despite herself, Clara felt a wave of indignance coming over her. Who the bloody hell was he to charm his way onto her good side, and then stand up her like this? Especially after she'd offered to help? Crossing her arms over her chest, she strutted angrily off and away from the cathedral, turning the corner with a cross look on her face that soon turned into one of confusion...
"Freddie!" she squeaked. Well, she'd have to forgive him now, wouldn't she? He was all...beat up! Who'd done that to him? She'd give 'em a piece of her mind! Except... "Run? Wha - oh, you're comin' with me!"
She reached out for his free hand and tugged him after her as she broke into a run, back towards the cathedral as her mind spun. Maybe they could hide inside?