Ilde is about ninety percent sure that she didn't do anything.
Probably.
One minute they're having a perfectly ordinary conversation (which absolutely did require she sit down on the edge of the desk so he couldn't avoid her and because the angle is so flattering), and then he - he doesn't look well, and he's not responding right, and it doesn't make any sense. Her hands hover uncertainly in the space near his shoulders, like there's probably something she should do, but she isn't sure what's wrong or how it became wrong, they were just - talking. She was just talking to him. She talks to lots of people, they don't start looking at her like that, or like they might be ill in a moment.
(She swivels her knees. He's not going to be ill on her shoes. She likes these shoes.)
in media res.
Probably.
One minute they're having a perfectly ordinary conversation (which absolutely did require she sit down on the edge of the desk so he couldn't avoid her and because the angle is so flattering), and then he - he doesn't look well, and he's not responding right, and it doesn't make any sense. Her hands hover uncertainly in the space near his shoulders, like there's probably something she should do, but she isn't sure what's wrong or how it became wrong, they were just - talking. She was just talking to him. She talks to lots of people, they don't start looking at her like that, or like they might be ill in a moment.
(She swivels her knees. He's not going to be ill on her shoes. She likes these shoes.)
"--Clark?"