"Can't you go home already?"
"You've been asking me this one day after another for almost three weeks now. Don't you ever grow tired of it?"
Paul felt the sudden need to strangle her, but managed to suppress it for the moment. With bleak eyes, he turned to watch the snowflakes dance and fall and imagined to be one of them; just floating through the air without any troubles, without any worries, without any Dawns.
"C'mon, don't be so dramatic about it," she said, busily flipping another page of her Weekly Co-ordinator Magazine.
Paul decided to ignore this. "You're always avoiding answering my questions," he began, sounding more serious than the situation deserved. "What are you hiding?"
"Nothing?" she offered.
"Well, if you're bored at home," he reasoned. "Then go annoy someone else. You have tons of friends you could visit."
"I could," she said, not looking at him. "If I had the money, that is."
He sent her a funny look.
"It's true," she insisted and intently studied an advertisement for some sort of foot massaging device for beedrill, which was kind of weird, since, as far as she remembered, beedrill didn't have any feet. "Mom's renovating the house so there's not much left for me at the moment."
"Hn." He crossed his arms over his chest, staring yearningly out of the window, and seemed just a little bit upset.
"Hey, do you happen to know whether beedrill have actual feet?"