Angela sits in the bar, working on her essay about symbolism in The Scarlet Letter. There are books and papers scattered over the surface of a table
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"Well...when I get some of it done, will you look it over? Just to make sure it flows properly. I'm not so great with non-fiction, but I still like it to read well."
Angela follows his gesture. Oddly enough, she's never noticed the rafters. "I'll keep that in mind."
Angela looks at her papers now. "Yeah, I'm doing an essay for school about the symbolism in The Scarlet Letter. It's kind of an easy essay but it'll help me get caught up in school."
Not far away is another table covered in papers, another figure hunched over and scribbling.
This figure is wearing markedly less makeup, however. He has noticed Angela's, though. It's not the weirdest thing he's seen since arriving in Milliways, but it's still rather odd, and she's nearer than anyone else. Which may be why he glances at her occasionally.
Thomas flushes a bit as he realizes he's been staring.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have been staring; it's just people here are so...different from back home." No woman he knew would be caught dead wearing trousers for one. He can't even really imagine his wife, Helen, in them. "My name is Thomas Andrews. It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss...?"
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"Hi there."
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It's not his fault. Angela's been reclusive.
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Gesturing to the rafters.
"School work?"
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Angela looks at her papers now. "Yeah, I'm doing an essay for school about the symbolism in The Scarlet Letter. It's kind of an easy essay but it'll help me get caught up in school."
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This figure is wearing markedly less makeup, however. He has noticed Angela's, though. It's not the weirdest thing he's seen since arriving in Milliways, but it's still rather odd, and she's nearer than anyone else. Which may be why he glances at her occasionally.
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Lady Selae is right. She really should look more approachable.
"Hi. I don't bite."
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"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have been staring; it's just people here are so...different from back home." No woman he knew would be caught dead wearing trousers for one. He can't even really imagine his wife, Helen, in them. "My name is Thomas Andrews. It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss...?"
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