I have so many of these Randall/Hershel pieces started… I do hope I'm not the only one who caught the subtext between every other character in this game? On a side note, I'm taking privileges; I am aware Randall has perfect eyesight. For the purposes of this story, he does not.
Well Hell, I Just Might
"You're making that face again."
Still squinting, pupils straining for light, Randall didn't even glance up before replying with a flat "What face."
Hershel knew it wasn't a question, and that while Randall tried valiantly to practice the manners he'd been forced to learn from an early age on, he slipped up most when archaeology was involved. Set before him was a particularly irritating piece of faintly etched stone, something he'd accidentally come across whilst out near Memory Knoll of all places. Hershel also knew that it was not for lack of interest that Randall spoke to him in such a way; the teenager had simply placed his focus elsewhere.
Sighing, Hershel finished tightening a screw in the large pair of glasses held gently in his hand. With a fond smile, he slipped them carefully back on their owner's face.
Randall blinked, momentarily brought out of his thoughts. "Ah," he murmured, rapidly adjusting to being able to actually see once more.
The first thing he was able to make out clearly was Hershel's bemused face.
"You know, Hershel, I do believe you're the one thing I find more distracting than archaeology," he said seriously.
Hershel merely laughed.
"Yes, Randall. Next, you'll be proclaiming your love for me, and not your rocks and glyphs," the tan teen smiled.
Silence fell upon the two as the sky grew darker.
"I should go, Randall; you know how mother worries. I'll see you tomorrow morning, yes?"
"Of course, Hershel. I wouldn't dream of missing the outing Angela has planned," Randall assured. After the other teen had left, Randall leaned back in his chair. Sighing, he gently touched the frame of his glasses.
"You may be more correct than you could ever know, Hershel…"