[Writers Muses] Response
"If you have something to tell me, then tell me, otherwise we can stop wasting each other's time."
Her hands remained positioned on hips as her right foot tapped up and down. She eyed him warily, almost doubtfully.
Tap, tap, tap, tap.
All around them, gentry mingled in gorgeous dress, with fur shawls and long gowns and men in tuxes, not a single hair out of place. Chandeliers twinkled in the dim light and the occasional glow of mobiles make their users stand out.
Tap, tap, tap, tap.
The blue satin material of her dress switched with the slightest movement of her hips as she continued to tap her foot impatiently. She stared at him, brown eyes anything but warm. For the fifth time tonight, he had tried to distract her from her mission. She needed this interview with Peter Tyler and she was determined to get it.
Tap, tap, tap, tap.
A sigh. He had been babbling for the last five minutes straight. The smile plastered on her face couldn’t grow any faker as she nodded to those occasionally passing. Finally, her resolve broke. “Look, John, i If you have something to tell me, then tell me, otherwise we can stop wasting each other's time.”
Tap, tap, tap, tap.
He looked like a deer caught in the headlights. His eyes widened, glasses doing very little to conceal their shock. He held his neck erect, stiff against the bowtie and suit he wore. He blinked once and choked.
Tap, tap, tap, tap.
“Well?”
“I… er, that is to say-”
“John!”
Tap, tap, tap, tap.
She shook her head when he stuttered again, far too busy staring at her than bothering to concede to her demands. She rolled her eyes at him and turned to walk away. A strong grip on her wrist stopped her. She turned around, ready to tell him off and yet, yet she couldn’t.
“What?”
Her nervous and impatient tapping of her foot had returned. She had to get her proof that Peter Tyler had been elected the new head of Torchwood due to his affair with a Martian. Didn’t he realise that?
“John?”
Tap, tap, tap.
“No more wasting time. Marry me.”
Ta-.
She stopped tapping, she nearly stopped breathing. This time it was her turn to look like a deer startled in the headlights. The look lasted seconds - no, eons - until she nodded. Even if he was just trying to protect the Tylers again, he looked too sincere to mean it for any other reason.
“Yeah,” she whispered softly, story forgotten. “You know, I think I will.”
Her hands remained positioned on hips as her right foot tapped up and down. She eyed him warily, almost doubtfully.
Tap, tap, tap, tap.
All around them, gentry mingled in gorgeous dress, with fur shawls and long gowns and men in tuxes, not a single hair out of place. Chandeliers twinkled in the dim light and the occasional glow of mobiles make their users stand out.
Tap, tap, tap, tap.
The blue satin material of her dress switched with the slightest movement of her hips as she continued to tap her foot impatiently. She stared at him, brown eyes anything but warm. For the fifth time tonight, he had tried to distract her from her mission. She needed this interview with Peter Tyler and she was determined to get it.
Tap, tap, tap, tap.
A sigh. He had been babbling for the last five minutes straight. The smile plastered on her face couldn’t grow any faker as she nodded to those occasionally passing. Finally, her resolve broke. “Look, John, i If you have something to tell me, then tell me, otherwise we can stop wasting each other's time.”
Tap, tap, tap, tap.
He looked like a deer caught in the headlights. His eyes widened, glasses doing very little to conceal their shock. He held his neck erect, stiff against the bowtie and suit he wore. He blinked once and choked.
Tap, tap, tap, tap.
“Well?”
“I… er, that is to say-”
“John!”
Tap, tap, tap, tap.
She shook her head when he stuttered again, far too busy staring at her than bothering to concede to her demands. She rolled her eyes at him and turned to walk away. A strong grip on her wrist stopped her. She turned around, ready to tell him off and yet, yet she couldn’t.
“What?”
Her nervous and impatient tapping of her foot had returned. She had to get her proof that Peter Tyler had been elected the new head of Torchwood due to his affair with a Martian. Didn’t he realise that?
“John?”
Tap, tap, tap.
“No more wasting time. Marry me.”
Ta-.
She stopped tapping, she nearly stopped breathing. This time it was her turn to look like a deer startled in the headlights. The look lasted seconds - no, eons - until she nodded. Even if he was just trying to protect the Tylers again, he looked too sincere to mean it for any other reason.
“Yeah,” she whispered softly, story forgotten. “You know, I think I will.”