*She doesn't lash out, doesn't yell, but the look she fixes him with could kill. She stares for a second, panic and anger clashing violently and pinning her to the spot for the moment, and then drops her cigarette into a half-empty tea cup left on the coffee table. She picks up her purse and stands, straightening out her blouse. There is nothing of the warmth in her voice that's usually there for Sirius, none of the playful drawl.*
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Date: 2011-08-30 04:56 pm (UTC)It's been swell, really, but I gotta get going.