(no subject)
Shelley gets into the shower more or less on autopilot the next morning, before she remembers, and nearly slips over. Mechancally, she rises her hair and gets out. She has to get to work, no time to worry, she can do that later. Although she'd really rather find him gone.
Dressed and ready, she hesitates outside the study door. A tiny push, and she can hear his slow breathing. Not gone. Still here.
Oh god.
She'd been careful that morning, knowing she must look tired. Dabs of concealer under her eyes, a bit of blush to give her some colour. Traditional girl-things to try and look normal. And as per tradition, it doesn't fool Fallon at lunch in the least.
"Are you ill?"
"No." Damn it! Should have said yes...
"Boy troubles? It is, yes?"
"No!"
"Lack of boy troubles making you sad?"
"I have to go!"
"...And the reservation requires funding, god knows, but quite so much, Shelley?"
"Well, Mr. Mayor, you know what builders' estimates are like."
Mr. James Mayor, Mayor of Tackleford, twirls his pen thoughtfully. "Indeed, I do. We can hope that we will have an excess after all's said and done, but I don't know how we can justify it to the board."
Shelley doesn't take her eyes off the pen held between his fingers.
"You couldn't perhaps have a word, could you? Tell them to bring it down to a minimum, we are not asking for luxury-"
One hand goes to her side, and she blinks, almost flinching as his hand moves suddenly, in a stabbing-
No, no he's not, it's not, it's a pen - catches the light. Shining and is he closer?
"Are you quite all right-" (Lady) "-Shelley?"
She swallows. "Er. Yes. Talk to them. Shall I go? N-now?"
The Mayor looks perplexed. "If you think so."
"Good. Okay." She gets up. Turning her back on his is almost impossible, not starting to run even harder.
Drink of water, after wiping her eyes on some loo roll. It's fine. It's Mr. Mayor, he wouldn't hurt a fly.
He's waiting for her.
But she'll go and talk to those builders, and that's a distraction, and then there's filing to do. She'll be fine.
Until five-thirty, anyway. Fine.
Dressed and ready, she hesitates outside the study door. A tiny push, and she can hear his slow breathing. Not gone. Still here.
Oh god.
She'd been careful that morning, knowing she must look tired. Dabs of concealer under her eyes, a bit of blush to give her some colour. Traditional girl-things to try and look normal. And as per tradition, it doesn't fool Fallon at lunch in the least.
"Are you ill?"
"No." Damn it! Should have said yes...
"Boy troubles? It is, yes?"
"No!"
"Lack of boy troubles making you sad?"
"I have to go!"
"...And the reservation requires funding, god knows, but quite so much, Shelley?"
"Well, Mr. Mayor, you know what builders' estimates are like."
Mr. James Mayor, Mayor of Tackleford, twirls his pen thoughtfully. "Indeed, I do. We can hope that we will have an excess after all's said and done, but I don't know how we can justify it to the board."
Shelley doesn't take her eyes off the pen held between his fingers.
"You couldn't perhaps have a word, could you? Tell them to bring it down to a minimum, we are not asking for luxury-"
One hand goes to her side, and she blinks, almost flinching as his hand moves suddenly, in a stabbing-
No, no he's not, it's not, it's a pen - catches the light. Shining and is he closer?
"Are you quite all right-" (Lady) "-Shelley?"
She swallows. "Er. Yes. Talk to them. Shall I go? N-now?"
The Mayor looks perplexed. "If you think so."
"Good. Okay." She gets up. Turning her back on his is almost impossible, not starting to run even harder.
Drink of water, after wiping her eyes on some loo roll. It's fine. It's Mr. Mayor, he wouldn't hurt a fly.
He's waiting for her.
But she'll go and talk to those builders, and that's a distraction, and then there's filing to do. She'll be fine.
Until five-thirty, anyway. Fine.