Boredom leads to fuckery. [For Manuel]
While the minds around the compound were generally open, Jean had found nothing interesting. It was all stir-craziness, general drama between roommates, and a smattering of uninteresting budding relationships. It was incredibly boring.
She was absentmindedly eating an apple when she began getting some loud thoughts projecting into her mind. They were scattered, conflicted, and probably the most interesting thing she'd heard in awhile. She turned in her seat, scanning faces until she figured out which they were coming from. That one, with the dark hair and the slightly manic eyes. She took in a breath, almost like a cat testing the air.
And then she sprung.
Jean let her mind reach out ahead of her, filtering through all the panicky male bullshit in the front of his thoughts. There were no blocks, no defenses stopping her.
She thinks I made her love me.
She stops on that thought, psychically feeling along the branches that were connected to it. Allison. A familiar face.
Jean slid into the seat across the table from him, sliding a chocolate chip cookie across to him. Game face.
"You look like you could use one," she said, a calm smile on her face. She felt the tiniest hint of anxiety, which could easily be written off as the same strand of stir-crazy everyone else seemed to be contracting.
She was absentmindedly eating an apple when she began getting some loud thoughts projecting into her mind. They were scattered, conflicted, and probably the most interesting thing she'd heard in awhile. She turned in her seat, scanning faces until she figured out which they were coming from. That one, with the dark hair and the slightly manic eyes. She took in a breath, almost like a cat testing the air.
And then she sprung.
Jean let her mind reach out ahead of her, filtering through all the panicky male bullshit in the front of his thoughts. There were no blocks, no defenses stopping her.
She thinks I made her love me.
She stops on that thought, psychically feeling along the branches that were connected to it. Allison. A familiar face.
Jean slid into the seat across the table from him, sliding a chocolate chip cookie across to him. Game face.
"You look like you could use one," she said, a calm smile on her face. She felt the tiniest hint of anxiety, which could easily be written off as the same strand of stir-crazy everyone else seemed to be contracting.