scandalaciousreputation:
It was all a bit of a blur, really. One second, he had been innocently waiting for Galinda in her room, the next be was being struck across the face by an angry green girl. At least, that was how he would tell it if he was ever asked. He would forget to make it clear that it was a shared room. And that he was quite happily sitting on what he knew to be Elphaba’s side of it, on her bed, and fiddling with one of her things. There was no way he could have avoided knowing it was her side of the room, what with the overwhelming contrast between the two girls, personalities and colour palettes.
Still, despite any fault on his part, it still felt like something of an extreme reaction. Even in a girl with such a well-known short temper.
His hand snapped up to his cheek, already warm, angry and going pink against his fingers. It took a few seconds of stunned staring for a response to form in his mind, and it was admittedly sub par.
“eh..?”
It was the somewhat bewildered equivalent of the ‘WHAT IN OZ’S NAME?’ he’d been aiming for. (Again, in any later retelling of this story, this would be one of the parts that hit the cutting room floor.)
And with that, he continued staring.
She was so angry that she didn’t even feel a sense of satisfaction when she saw his cheek colouring beneath his hand. In fact, it wasn’t anger that was the problem; she was angry that he was there in the first place, but his actions had upset her. The sight of the bottle in his hands had brought to the fore a whole host of things that Elphaba tried very, very hard not to openly acknowledge.
Rationally, she knew he couldn’t have known the significance of the object he’d been idly toying with, but rationality didn’t really matter. He shouldn’t have been there anyway, after all. While her outburst could easily have been seen as an overreaction to his mere presence in the room, she was also in no hurry to explain the full reason behind it.
“Get out.”
