[ Zephirin's gaze tracks Francel into the room, once the bag has changed hands and the door is closed behind them. Running here all the way from the art classrooms is impressive — and telling, pointing to Francel's anxieties once again. Even now, hovering instead of sitting down, he seems somehow on edge.
In a few strides, Zephirin stands beside Francel, over the nearest table. There, he places his own bag on the floor next to his chosen chair, and Francel's lunchboxes on the table, removing them from within their bag one by one.
He doesn't open them yet — facing Francel, one hand raised, he brings it closer to the boy's tuft of hair still out of alignment with the surrounding strands. For the moment, the gesture only points it out, implicitly seeking Francel's consent to step in. ]
When you said that you would run over here right away, I suppose I should have realized that you meant it.
no subject
In a few strides, Zephirin stands beside Francel, over the nearest table. There, he places his own bag on the floor next to his chosen chair, and Francel's lunchboxes on the table, removing them from within their bag one by one.
He doesn't open them yet — facing Francel, one hand raised, he brings it closer to the boy's tuft of hair still out of alignment with the surrounding strands. For the moment, the gesture only points it out, implicitly seeking Francel's consent to step in. ]
When you said that you would run over here right away, I suppose I should have realized that you meant it.