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Tis ok! Life can be like that sometimes.
Reúven
“Safety procedures? Like drills?” He paused. “There have been some fire drills, I think.”
He almost went on to say that he always assumed those fell on days he was absent, but that was far too much information. It was always better to keep things simple. He kept the rest of his response to a shrug.
Sure, security in the premises was terrible. In some ways it bothered him, but it was often too convenient to get mad about. Still, he didn’t keep a knife in his boot for nothing.
Which, ironically, a serious security team would be horrified at. They would also make it unnecessary.
Hot Milk+Brown Sugar+Vanilla+Ginger+Cinnamon=All the comfort this world can offer.
Wren
That was what she expected. Up to this point, the answers seemed the same as all the ones she got from other students. But now she had come to her last and biggest question. For the first time in the interview, Wren looked up from her notebook. She looked her interviewee dead in the eye, determined to get an honest answer.
“Alright, final question. Do you feel safe here?”
⭐️World's Slowest Writer⭐️
Ooo.
Reúven
His mouth went dry. He forced himself not to break eye contact, even though it meant she probably saw the flash of anger he tried so hard to repress. His smile was painfully thin. In fact, it was a grimace. He let it drop.
“No.” Home was his safe place, guarded as it was by the man in the wheelchair. Anywhere else was a no man’s land of possibility. That was why Reúven was born for danger. His smile creeped back, enough to be genuine. “That’s just life. Still, if security here was a bit better, I think we’d all appreciate it.”
Several students started cheering wildly. He glanced to see what they were excited about, saw that someone had been put back in the game, and turned back to the reporter lady.
Hot Milk+Brown Sugar+Vanilla+Ginger+Cinnamon=All the comfort this world can offer.
Popping in because this is fun to watch
Marcel
Marcel rubbed his elbow where he had fallen, grinning like a cheshire cat and standing on the game sidelines. He caught a few lines of an interesting conversation. A girl, holding a notebook and pencil lile some kind of reporter, was talking to a student.
The girl zeroed in on her target. “Alright, final question. Do you feel safe here?”
Marcel couldn’t help but chuckle. He feigned coughing into his arm to disguise his reaction.
I am out of signature ideas
Lolll. Very smooth, Marcel.
If Reúven hadn’t been already thinking in a serious line of thought, he’d probably have reacted much the same way. Just, not so unobtrusively. XD Marcel is awesome.
Hot Milk+Brown Sugar+Vanilla+Ginger+Cinnamon=All the comfort this world can offer.
😝 Given the fact that Marcel has saved multiple students from injury or death when teachers didn’t, that post wrote itself.
I am out of signature ideas
Lol. He’s a hero. Wren would get an interesting viewpoint if she interviewed him!
Hot Milk+Brown Sugar+Vanilla+Ginger+Cinnamon=All the comfort this world can offer.
Trying to figure out how to keep Wren from just wandering off now that her interview is over
⭐️World's Slowest Writer⭐️
How well hidden is the knife in his boot? Could she potentially notice it while standing up to leave? Sorry I am fighting my own character so hard right now trying to get her to stay XD
⭐️World's Slowest Writer⭐️
Good question! Characters can be stubborn. XD
And I’m sorry he’s not being more suspicious. He’s a chameleon with a strong protective instinct, not a super hero. 😂 Some info: 1. He’s wearing black combat boots, which are fairly tall.(Look like Dutch Army boots) 2. I think the hilt of the knife would need to be accessible, so it’s probably surreptitiously poking out of the inside top of his left boot. (I don’t know much about boot knives so I’m improvising) It could also have slid about a little in the ball game. 3. I’m thinking the knife looks like a Bowie knife, and is in a simple black sheath.
Hot Milk+Brown Sugar+Vanilla+Ginger+Cinnamon=All the comfort this world can offer.
So yes. She could see it.
Hot Milk+Brown Sugar+Vanilla+Ginger+Cinnamon=All the comfort this world can offer.
Ok, after some research etc, it’s probably got a blade of about eight inches. Definitely on the inside of his left leg. The sheath is sewn into the inside of his boot, so it would stay put. It would also be a little higher at the hilt to keep him from cutting himself when he draws. The handle would absolutely be visible. Reúven would get in so much trouble if this school had security. XD
Hot Milk+Brown Sugar+Vanilla+Ginger+Cinnamon=All the comfort this world can offer.
Excellent. This should work
Wren
“Security. Yes,” Wren muttered, sounding dissatisfied. “If my article does what I hope, that should change soon.” She shut her notebook and tucked her pencil into the breast pocket of her shirt. Some hair fell into her face as she looked up again. “Thank you for answering my questions, Mr. Anonymous.” She stood as if to leave, but paused as her eye caught on something poking out of the top of the boy’s left boot. Usually she was smart enough to pretend to not notice something suspicious like this, but she doubted anyone would do her much harm in a room this crowded. Plus, she was feeling extra bold today. She brushed her hair out of her eyes.
“Speaking of security, what’s that?”
“What?”
“That.” She pointed to the rather obvious knife handle.
⭐️World's Slowest Writer⭐️
Lovely
Reúven
She meant his boot knife. He looked down at it, resisting the urge to tuck his feet under the bench. He could offer so many different excuses, but he wasn’t sure which would work best.
“I’m military.” The truth in a nutshell. “I have to be prepared for anything.”
He looked back up at her. His smile was gone. A steely glint was in its place.
“When you don’t prepare for something, that’s when it happens. And like I said, the security is terrible. We haven’t gotten much protection from the adults.”
A slightly different tack than the one he had used on the only instructor to comment on it. But then again, Mr. Wilkins had known about the war and been sympathetic to the displaced military brats. Since then, Reúven had been careful to minimize his accent. It was best not to have two things to explain.
Hot Milk+Brown Sugar+Vanilla+Ginger+Cinnamon=All the comfort this world can offer.
The boredom is upon me, thus I am here to write something with my two braincells. This may result in nonsense, or the depletion of the reader’s braincells.
Maverick
Maverick slipped into the room where a game took place; an event which, upon observation, he would like to call, “violently-throwing-spherical-rubber-at-peers.” Without any sense to be discreet, he stood outside the game with everyone else who was not participating and whistled loudly. He soon moved on from his idle ways of simply standing there, and rather started collecting stray dodgeballs that had flown outside the boundary, only to gleefully throw them at the players.
“Why do you not play this game using cabbages,” he asked aloud, as he believed it was an idea they all should have thought of.
This way, then that way, and that way twice, and that way again, and then the same, but BACKWARDS!
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