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party wurmple never sleeps. only dances.
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Ah. Right. That was why Astrid would most likely prefer the company of a chainsaw wielding maniac than Mel half the time. Even if Astrid did begrudgingly agree with everything Mel was saying, at least the murderer would have the common courtesy not to swing their legs so hard the table literally started rocking. Jesus Christ. How old was she anyway, ten?

Somehow, Astrid resisted the urge to roll her eyes, instead closing them and massaging her forehead. Yep. That was definitely a headache coming along. Goddamnit. That was absolutely not going to help her mood.

Leaning down to dig around in her bag again, Astrid found a packet of ibuprofen and her bottle of water after a few seconds of rummaging, placing them on the table just as Mel started talking again. She scattered a couple of tablets out on to the table, placed one in her mouth, took a swig of water, then nearly spat it all out again as she processed what Mel had just said.

Somehow she managed to swallow it, breaking into a small coughing fit as she glared at Mel, face a mix of anger and confusion. Eventually, Mel told her that ‘nothing weird’ was going on, and Astrid’s confusion subsided. Her anger, however, only increased. Her glare wouldn’t just melt through metal; it’d obliterate and anything that stood in a six-mile radius around it.

It was a blessing for Mel’s own safety that Maxim chose that moment to depart. He didn’t say a word, not even a ‘goodbye’ or a ‘oh shit I’m late for class.’ He just got up like the chair was suddenly on fire and almost bolted out of the library. It was enough to jolt Astrid out of her un-righteous fury.

“The fuck is his deal anyway?” Astrid muttered. “Guy pretty much begs for that seat, then just ups and leaves after a few minutes? Is there something I’m missing here, or what?”

Astrid shook her head, and took another swig of water. The way this day was going, she almost expected someone to run up and squeeze the bottle whilst she was drinking.

If they did, then there would be a murder in the library.
Lyra Doyle-Let's live tonight like fireflies, and one by one light up the sky
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The Dynamo of Volition · Beale Library