[ utterly disgusted by the result, Cambridge stalked away from his place on Chiswick Bridge and headed away from the celebrations on the Middlesex bank. He had been so certain of a win this year - and he hadn't been the only one - that at first he didn't even have enough grace to bring himself to reply to the text. He curled a lip and ignored it, pocketing his phone and disappearing in to the crowds of revellers thronging the pubs and bars on Clifford Avenue]
[ Oxford barely expects an answer, but nonetheless he strolls along the river at a leisurely pace, wandering the victorious Surrey bank until he reaches Chiswick Bridge. He knows that Cambridge will be somewhere, fuming amongst the saddened Cambridge crowds on the Middlesex bank, and he is quite determined to find him; it takes him a while to reach the other side of the river, but he supposes that the time he takes is ample time for Cambridge to cool down to a more suitable boiling point. On the other bank, however, he hastens his speed somewhat - he doesn't want Cambridge to calm too much, after all. Where's the fun in that? ]
You have no obligation to tell me, of course. Not to worry - I'll find you. O.
[ Again, Cambridge reads the text with seemingly-cool indifference before pocketing his phone with a scowl, but this time he begins to look for Oxford. Chiswick is packed, but Cambridge doesn't doubt how easy it would be to pick out his old rival amidst the crowds... And before long, lo and behold, he spies that familiar face.]
[Cambridge scowls in bad grace as he snakes through the streams of students towards Oxford, his hands firmly jammed in to the pockets of his long, black Boss coat and his eyes narrowed in the watery, grey sunlight. He doesn't say anything as he approaches but resentfully allows Oxford the first salvo of whatever barbs were due to come Cambridge's way...]
[ A very small part of Oxford wishes he wasn't possessed by such a strong insistence to smirk, but it really is very small. His expression is one of truly overflowing pride as he approaches Cambridge, meandering through the crowds with considerable ease. Again that small part of him begs for a companionable or gracious greeting, but it is drowned out by the childishly antagonistic and vindictive pleasure he takes in this victory. As much pride as he has for his city, for his university, for the sporting prowess of the students, part of the triumph does come from the simple fact that he has bested Cambridge. ]
Well, this goes to show just how little these bookies know, doesn't it? [ He pauses, head cocked to one side with insufferably innocent curiosity. ] Tell me, how much did you lose?
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You have no obligation to tell me, of course. Not to worry - I'll find you. O.
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[Cambridge scowls in bad grace as he snakes through the streams of students towards Oxford, his hands firmly jammed in to the pockets of his long, black Boss coat and his eyes narrowed in the watery, grey sunlight. He doesn't say anything as he approaches but resentfully allows Oxford the first salvo of whatever barbs were due to come Cambridge's way...]
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Well, this goes to show just how little these bookies know, doesn't it? [ He pauses, head cocked to one side with insufferably innocent curiosity. ] Tell me, how much did you lose?
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