Jun 27, 2016
@muscleheaded
Deliberately, with his fingers slack around the cold cup of coffee in his hand, the pseudo-detective’s lowered eyes followed an approaching pair of shoes out of his periphery. It was a matter of seconds, no semblance of providence in his sharp features by the time he schooled his features, and with his cup tipped precariously in preparation, their bodies collided.
“Oh dear,” he burst out amid faux-apprehension when the contents spilled across their shirts, veering the remaining liquid out of reach as his hand smoothly came to rest on the stranger’s shoulder.
“I’m so sorry,” he expressed, concern growing the longer he fumbled, “Here, let me--”, and with a practiced flick of his wrist, he produced a handkerchief.
