[Wonderful. Social interaction. Forced social interaction. There are so many other, more important things she could be doing with this time instead of sitting across from a stranger, arms crossed, glowering. Really, how was this at all useful for anyone?]
You'll pardon me if I don't make small talk. I've tried it in the past with varying levels of success, but ultimately it just wastes time and air that would be fair better spent studying. Something. I'm not quite certain on that part yet.
02.
Oh god why were there so many people intruding on her personal space and with markers? Had everyone gone insane? or were they all just children? Not that she had much right to complain about insanity, but she was just about on the verge of a panic attack and if one more person approached her wielding a writing instrument, she might scream.
At the first opportunity she ducked into what looked like a cafe marked as a "safe zone" hoping that it actually was safe--if nothing else there was far more space for her to breathe for a moment and re-establish some boundaries. After a few moments, no more marker-hoodlums approached, and she relaxed somewhat, looking at her marker-covered hands (thankfully she had been hiding her tattoos under her jacket and her arms weren't available), absently trying to count the number of marks she'd gotten. She stopped trying after 10.
And that's not even accounting for the two on her face that she hadn't noticed owing to the whole "panic" thing. You know.
Patricia Tannis | Borderlands Series
[Wonderful. Social interaction. Forced social interaction. There are so many other, more important things she could be doing with this time instead of sitting across from a stranger, arms crossed, glowering. Really, how was this at all useful for anyone?]
You'll pardon me if I don't make small talk. I've tried it in the past with varying levels of success, but ultimately it just wastes time and air that would be fair better spent studying. Something. I'm not quite certain on that part yet.
02.
Oh god why were there so many people intruding on her personal space and with markers? Had everyone gone insane? or were they all just children? Not that she had much right to complain about insanity, but she was just about on the verge of a panic attack and if one more person approached her wielding a writing instrument, she might scream.
At the first opportunity she ducked into what looked like a cafe marked as a "safe zone" hoping that it actually was safe--if nothing else there was far more space for her to breathe for a moment and re-establish some boundaries. After a few moments, no more marker-hoodlums approached, and she relaxed somewhat, looking at her marker-covered hands (thankfully she had been hiding her tattoos under her jacket and her arms weren't available), absently trying to count the number of marks she'd gotten. She stopped trying after 10.
And that's not even accounting for the two on her face that she hadn't noticed owing to the whole "panic" thing. You know.