Note: Faust is a play by Goethe that focuses on a character who sells his soul to the devil in order to achieve mystical powers. Suiting, no?
Chapter Three
Follow (v): To watch or observe closely
Two weeks later.
"Stop." She growled, peeking over the cover of her paperback. Her arms were crossed in front of her chest in an effort to keep her fists from lashing out at the smug face seated on the couch in front of her.
"Stop what?" He asked casually.
"What you're doing." She bit out.
"What is it that I'm doing?" He replied, and she noticed the discrete tugging at the corners of his mouth.
"Staring, it's annoying and you've been doing it for the past half hour," She stated coldly, her light gray-blue eyes narrowing in irritation.
"Oh," He said dispassionately, not removing the train of his gaze from the object he was focused on.
She began to shift uneasily in her seat, "Damnit cut it out!" She unexpectedly bellowed, chucking the book across the room, hoping to hit his fat head.
"No." Came the flat reply and easy dodge.
She sneered, "Bastard." She spat before she stood up abruptly and went to her room, where she promptly slammed the door shut.
Tymmie said nothing, but continued to stare at her retreating form, chuckling to himself when she opened the door again, her face livid and contorted, "What the hell is your problem!" She demanded.
"Cassandra, I'm simply observing," He commented off-handedly, "It's you who seems to be having the problem."
Her face then proceeded to turn the same shade as her hair, "Oh, just burn in hell." She said so unemotionally, a lesser person would not have thought she was serious. But Tymmie knew better.
"You get very tense, by such a simple action."
"Simple? You were gawking at me like I was some specimen in a zoo." Her hands were placed firmly on her hips and she kept up the death glare.
Tymmie leaned his head back and let out a barking laugh, "Darling, this is a zoo."
Cassandra was finding it increasingly difficult to stay mad at the man in front of her who was giggling like a five year old. Her fists clenched, and body stayed stock-still as she attempted to keep her rage that was fleeing away rapidly when Tymmie was still laughing at his own observation that wasn't funny at all a few minutes later. Her anger was replaced by irritation, and then finally, resignation.
She exhaled, damn.
"Who the hell says 'darling' anymore, anyways?" She opted for being the cynical bitch, instead of her previous raving bitch mode.
Tymmie smirked after his laughter had died down, knowing he had won this round and outsmarted her, "You're new, dah-rling," Cassandra cringed at the elaborate pronunciation, "After a couple of months or so, you'll realize that old habits, including word choice, die hard with us Followers."
She blew a strand of way-ward maroon hair out of her eyes, "You're ridiculous." Was all she said flatly, turning on her heel and closing the partially rotting wooden door behind her as she retreated yet again to her room.
Tymmie rolled his eyes before he situated himself calmly on the couch, "Drama queen," He muttered, picking up the disregarded paperback that had been previously aimed for his head and began reading yet again.
A few moments later, from behind the closed rotting door, there was a crash and a stifled sob, which Tymmie ignored. After that, a pained and hoarse scream. But Tymmie ignored that too.
After all, Cassandra's copy of Faust was just beginning to get interesting.
