[francel walks to the shelves with a wild rabbit’s timid demeanor, striding (practically skipping) some few paces, turning over his shoulder to see if zephirin is following him, and then hopping ahead again. he comes to a complete halt, however, when the upperclassman implicitly accuses him of being the notecard’s mysterious writer. startled, he jolts visibly; with guilt writ plain on his face, he clasps his hands against his chest, looking about as if for an escape route.]
I-I don’t – it wasn’t me!
[...on second thought, why is he trying to deny it?]
no subject
I-I don’t – it wasn’t me!
[...on second thought, why is he trying to deny it?]
Well – it was, but – d-don’t talk to me!
[...that’s not quite what he meant to say...]