Nov. 2nd, 2008
There was something to be said about being prompt, and early.
That it was incredibly frigging annoying. That's what.
Annabella Fennix paces back and forth in front of the bench near the giant stiletto-shoe.
She stops, and faces the bench, "Oh, Hallo Luc. I saw the ghost of your country's worst enemy ever."
A beat and a half, several ticks of clockwork.
Then a frustrated sound, running her left hand through her hair, "Oh. No. Sweet Lightning and Daughter of Thunder no, not like that."
She turns to the bench again. "Hallo General Marc! Bella here--"
"No." Geh, "Mein Gott no."
About Six-twenty-five, and three attempts later she simply resigns herself to pacing back and fourth.
This was not going to be easy to tell.
Not at all.
That it was incredibly frigging annoying. That's what.
Annabella Fennix paces back and forth in front of the bench near the giant stiletto-shoe.
She stops, and faces the bench, "Oh, Hallo Luc. I saw the ghost of your country's worst enemy ever."
A beat and a half, several ticks of clockwork.
Then a frustrated sound, running her left hand through her hair, "Oh. No. Sweet Lightning and Daughter of Thunder no, not like that."
She turns to the bench again. "Hallo General Marc! Bella here--"
"No." Geh, "Mein Gott no."
About Six-twenty-five, and three attempts later she simply resigns herself to pacing back and fourth.
This was not going to be easy to tell.
Not at all.