"That's good. I'd been thinking it could have been complicated by the snow." Her fingers were practiced at rolling silverware after a week of doing it, the repetitive task of stacking them - knife-fork-spoon - and then wrapping the silverware tightly before wrapping it in a paper band was calming. She didn't have to think about it, and could look up at him. He wasn't watching her-- not much, anyhow, although she knew he was paying attention to her.
She wondered sometimes if he'd make a move; he didn't seem the type, but she also honestly wished he would, and she's thought about going further than she already has, since she's given him a key to her apartment. Ostensibly it's in case of emergency, but she told him that he could come over whenever he liked, although he'd not used it so far.
Licking her lips, Maggie's brows furrow for a moment before she looks up - maybe she was going to ask him a question, maybe she was going to ask him over for dinner instead of knocking on his door. Maybe she'd ask him if she really needed to go home afterward, but all of those maybes went right out the window in that second.
Six-forty-eight PM. That was the time when Maggie Beauford sat across from Forrest Bondurant, when everyone else in Darrow was living their own lives, up to their own business. It was when the sun went down.
It was when the siren started, the low wail starting so quiet that Maggie wasn't sure that she'd heard anything until it kept growing-- not a siren on a car coming closer, but an all-encompassing howl of warning. "What in the world..." She pushed herself up from her chair, her eyes flicking to Forrest just before she twists to look out the windows, and it looks like it's snowing even though the skies were clear just ten minutes ago. "What's going on?" The bell rings in the back-- the manager's left without a word, running home to his family and leaving the two of them alone.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2016-02-09 04:36 am (UTC)She wondered sometimes if he'd make a move; he didn't seem the type, but she also honestly wished he would, and she's thought about going further than she already has, since she's given him a key to her apartment. Ostensibly it's in case of emergency, but she told him that he could come over whenever he liked, although he'd not used it so far.
Licking her lips, Maggie's brows furrow for a moment before she looks up - maybe she was going to ask him a question, maybe she was going to ask him over for dinner instead of knocking on his door. Maybe she'd ask him if she really needed to go home afterward, but all of those maybes went right out the window in that second.
Six-forty-eight PM. That was the time when Maggie Beauford sat across from Forrest Bondurant, when everyone else in Darrow was living their own lives, up to their own business. It was when the sun went down.
It was when the siren started, the low wail starting so quiet that Maggie wasn't sure that she'd heard anything until it kept growing-- not a siren on a car coming closer, but an all-encompassing howl of warning. "What in the world..." She pushed herself up from her chair, her eyes flicking to Forrest just before she twists to look out the windows, and it looks like it's snowing even though the skies were clear just ten minutes ago. "What's going on?" The bell rings in the back-- the manager's left without a word, running home to his family and leaving the two of them alone.