Those eyes. Those eyes.
Damn them. Damn their shininess. Damn their depth. Damn their sapphire-like everything.
Alfie had said something ridiculous – without meaning to, of course. Jerome had swallowed his drink down the wrong windpipe in amusement.
"Are you serious?" he said, spluttering a little having regained composure. Alfie nodded. Jerome howled with laughter again, the corners of his eyes crinkled up as he rocked back and forth.
"Guys, guys, listen to this," he said, twisting around to face Patricia, Fabian and Mick at the table. "Alfie –" and then his mouth was blocked by Alfie's hand. Patricia rolled her eyes and returned to her Romanov essay, crossing out the word she'd just written. Jerome let out a shriek as Alfie licked his palm.
"That's disgusting, man! Invest in some hygiene!"
Alfie chortled to himself in satisfaction. Jerome shook his head as his laughter faded. He turned to face Mara, who promptly bent her head down to the upcoming assembly agenda. Her mouth rested in a soft smile; she pulled her bottom lip under her teeth. Sweetie had packed the assembly full again – it'd run five minutes over time with the guest speaker and music performance. Jerome's eyes were boring into the space above hers like a scrutinising drill.
She didn't it put it past Jerome to have mind-reading capabilities. Think of shields. Think of shields. Mediaeval shields. Deflect him. Brick walls. Fortresses. Not his eyes. Don't think of his eyes. Think of mirrors – reflect his eyes back at him and blind him. She couldn't for the life of her remember what a shield looked like.