She sees him. She stares for a moment, but refuses to be stopped short by the sight. He is a little man. She can see that now, and it has nothing to do with height or perspective.
He sees her. He doesn't stare and has forgotten what it's like to be drawn short by much of anything.
But for the record, that does it - breeds some flicker of bewilderment and irritation that has him shifting from the center of the stairwell to one side as he continues climbing. What? say the crooked lines of his expression, though the word isn't actually voiced.
It gets what needs done. His hands are off the railing. She hefts herself onto the side, back facing the wall. She slides down quickly, spending as little time in his presence as possible.
As she goes, she clearly murmurs, "don't even wanna fuckin' look at you right now."
She slides down the rail, sweeping by in a grey cloud of resentment, and Flint stops fully for the moment it requires to blink and to contemplate how very exhausted he is by everyone in a twenty mile radius. Then he resumes his ascent.
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sorry if it's shorter.
"Hands!"
irl laugh
But for the record, that does it - breeds some flicker of bewilderment and irritation that has him shifting from the center of the stairwell to one side as he continues climbing. What? say the crooked lines of his expression, though the word isn't actually voiced.
sorry about this.
As she goes, she clearly murmurs, "don't even wanna fuckin' look at you right now."
godbless
It's fine.