(no subject)
It's after dinner and there is a great din in the hall. Everybody is rushing about to finish homework assignments or meet up with friends. I am standing at my table alone. I usually eat alone, but it's a good time to study, so it's not so bad. I look around anxiously. I haven't spotted Samantha or Spike yet. Oh, God, I hope they aren't off somewhere laughing at how they pulled one over on me, they must have realized I was an easy target. Buck up, Wesley old boy, I hear my father say in my head, don't be such a wanker. I'd rather be a wanker than an emotionless monster, I retort to myself. Why do I always have these conversations with myself? I really need some living friends. Or undead. Whatever. I check my bag again for the fencing swords. I hope that Spike and Samantha will be comfortable with sabres. I've used epee and foils before, but I've left those weapons at home. That is, if they come. I look around again, my pulse is pounding. Why is this so hard, I wonder.