This chapter is rather short, compared with the other ones I've been pumping out. But it's a bit different than usual, if only slightly. I needed a break from the fluffy garbage.

Only two more chapters (after this one!) before we rejoin the Professor and Laura in the present time. Then, I'll really have to be careful. I haven't quite gotten all the details sorted out. This stuff is slightly fluffy, but mostly serious. The rest is ALL serious. And we get a bit of Luke in there as well. I need to add another character into the mix. LOLZ.

Lame puzzle included. It's a consolation prize for reading my cruddy story.

DON'T FORGET TO READ AND REVIEW! I keep getting people adding this to their favorite story lists, BUT THEY NEVER REVIEW! YOU GOTTA. YOU GOTTA DO IT. DOO EEEEEET. D:

Anyway.

Fus ro dah,

Kelsey

CHAPTER 16: ET TU, BRUTE?

A dense fog buried the sidewalks and streets of downtown London, the pavement slick with moisture. Professor Layton checked his pocket watch as he hurried up the front steps of one of the many buildings belonging to Gressenheller University. The campus felt dead, all noise canceled out by the condensed clouds, but the air was warm and fresh, a welcome treat in mid-March.

He held his jacket under his arm, briefcase in tow. Several students marched around him, attempting to get to morning class on time. He nodded and smiled warmly to many of his colleagues in passing, quite unwilling to start a conversation. After all, his company was waiting patiently in his office.

His student, Laura, had begun an engineering project that required her morning presence every Tuesday and Thursday for several weeks. As he often had departmental meetings on the same days anyway, he enthusiastically (almost hungrily) offered to take her to and from the University by car, saving her time and money that would have been used on a bus. What ended up additionally taking place were walks about London, visits to tea shops, and Laura taking post-engineering naps in Layton's office while he taught an upper level archaeology course in tandem with another professor.

"Hmm, I didn't know you wear glasses." Layton tossed his jacket purposefully at Laura's head as she lay on the visitor's couch in the middle of the study. He laughed as she shot up, indignant at what was splayed across her face, disturbing her slumber.

"What in blazes?" She coughed, holding the article of clothing out in front of her, observing it. "Oh, you're back."

"Since when do you wear glasses?" he questioned with interest.

"Since I needed them back in high school," she informed him. "I try to get by without them but sometimes…I just need them."

"I see." He stared at her momentarily, looking away quickly with reddened cheeks. "They're quite…fitting, somehow."

"Fitting."

"Hmm, yes, quite."

Laura gathered her things and pulled on her jacket. "Is it still foggy?"

"Thick as pea soup," said the Professor, grabbing his car keys. "I see Rosa came by. I haven't seen her since she left for holiday."

"No, I cleaned your slob office. I wouldn't be surprised if I had to be put in hospital, what with the amount of dust hanging about. I was sure I'd go into some sort of fatal allergic reaction."

Layton pulled down on the brim of his hat, embarrassed. "Well, no one told you to go do a favor like that… Anyway, changing the subject—"

"Typical…"

"—I thought we could just take a little walk down to this quaint little place that just opened not too long ago. Overlooks the Thames."

Laura shrugged, pulling her bag onto her shoulder. "Okay."

The Professor sat back in his seat once they were seated at the small shop, quite traditional with the outdoor façade, but very modern and contemporary inside. He glanced often out the window, watching gulls circle the banks of the river and finally settle on the outdoor deck of the café, trying to peck inside the wet trashcan.

"Funny animals, aren't they." He took a long sip from his steaming mug. "Ah, the cup that cheers. A nice tea, this one."

Laura grimaced as she peered into her own cup, barely having took a gulp of the stuff. "This leaves…much to be desired."

He laughed. "Seems our palates aren't quite the same, are they?"

"Perhaps not. Sorry I wasted it." She snorted after he finished his cup and began on hers. "You know, I drank off of that."

Shrugging, he sat the empty mug down. "It's not as if we are unfamiliar with each other. It's not uncommon for those close with one another to share items that are typically off limits otherwise. But then again, you're a germophobe."

"Oh yes, fodder for your sharp, witty amusements," she scoffed at her chuckling professor. "So, what's on your agenda for today? Something boring in archaeology, no doubt."

Professor Layton paid at the counter and walked out. "Archaeology is not boring. We're focusing on Rome again. You know, I did a bit of research for fun…"

"For fun, even!"

"And your name is derived from the Latin word for the laurel tree, laurea. Did you know that?"

She smiled. "Although working with histories and the past bores me to no end, etymology is something I'm quite fond of. Yes, I did know that. I'm glad my parents chose the spelling that they did for my name, since it most closely mimics the Latin root."

"Hmm, yes. I must admit, I soon dropped the 'Miss' when I addressed you, as I thought it took away from your name as it stands alone. It's quite pretty."

They were soon in his car and off to Grissom's, weaving in and out of afternoon traffic. Laura leaned against the car door, gazing out the window. She was stuck on a thought.

"Why are you allowed to drop the 'Miss' at your will, even though it's only proper to address me as young ladies should be addressed? You feel that close to do so?"

He pulled into the parking lot, laughing heartily as he got out and collected his materials. "You know, I meant to tell you before, I wouldn't mind it if you called me by my first name, as my colleagues do."

"I'm not your colleague!" she blurted out, aghast.

"You might as well be, the amount of time we spend together, and with your aptitude!" He walked briskly to his office. Laura noticed he quickened his pace or expelled nervous energy at a greater rate when he was anxious or embarrassed. She followed him, closing the door behind them.

"So you want me to call you 'Hershel'? When not around others, of course. I don't know if I can get used to that. You're my professor, after all."

He didn't know why, but he felt a surge of warmth, a difference of pressure in his head as she said his name. It was as if subconsciously, another barrier was torn down. His house was no longer foreign to her, their addressing of each other was on the same plane, minds on the same wavelength. She was like an old friend that he slowly was rediscovering again, familiar things from before lost, now being found once more. He didn't know if it was more calming, or invigorating; he felt it could go either way.

Sitting down at his desk, he removed his hat, combing his fingers through his hair. "It's really your choice, but I personally would rather you address me as an equal. 'Hershel' is fine."

"But it's such a grand name! And then there's simple 'Laura,' so boring! Really, we're not equals, so I think maybe 'Miss' Laura is better after all…"

"How about 'Laurie'?"

She paused, thinking about it. It rang nicely, and he seemed to have a sense of pride as he said it somehow, having chosen a name for her. It was weird, she thought, but it was almost endearing, the way he asked, smiling.

"That's…a nice nickname. If you want to, I don't mind."

"That's settled then. Such a long discussion about something I should have called you from day one." He rose to pull a book from his shelf. "I almost slipped a few times. It seemed to just want to roll off my tongue, strange as it was. It fits you."

She blushed, wondering why he didn't use it before. Glancing at a clock on the wall, she sighed. "Well, I have some business to attend to, so I'll be off then."

"See you soon."

She glanced over as she had her hand on the door. "Professor?" He looked up, a cock-eyed smile on his face.

"You mean 'Hershel'?"

Scowling, she wrenched the door open, face screwed up in a weak sort of anger. "Well! It's much too—well, it's much too cute to say, I just can't do it! What an annoying name to have, really…'Hershel'!"

Laura left him to whatever laugh or snorting he did when she reacted in such a way, not caring about what he thought.

'Why does he go and do that? First name, really! We're not equals, honestly! What a confusing man…'

Her eyes widened as she collided with a tall object. She backed up hastily, taken aback that her head didn't hurt after walking straight into something. She soon realized she'd bumped into a person.

"I'm very…sorry…"

A tall and stiff man, perhaps a bit older than 20, looked at her crossly and continued on down the hall, going about the path she'd just came from. His black suit coat shimmered slightly against the bright hallway lights before turning a corner, out of sight.

Laura furrowed her brow. He hadn't even so much as stopped to discern whatever it was that he'd run into. Or, rather, what ran into him. It was as if his resolution was unshakable.

'Strange… And why was a man that young walking about? He looked like he'd belong at Gressenheller. Nice shoes and a fancy suit like that! It's almost as if I've seen him before, from somewhere… But I don't have a name to put to the face. I'll bring it up to the Professor—I mean, Hershel—later…Oh 'Hershel' indeed!'

As she walked into the suite that contained the main faculty and staff offices, she caught a glimpse of the Headmaster's door, noticing that it was ajar. The office itself was dark. She stopped.

"That's a bit odd. I wonder if he meant to close it, but it didn't quite catch…" She looked around, wondering if he'd stumble onto the scene so that she could tell him. No one was around. "Strange."

Taking a couple of steps forward, she peered through the dark crack between door and frame, trying to see if anything or anyone was visible. She knocked a couple of times, first quietly, then louder.

"Headmaster? Headmaster Ginlade? Are you in there? It's Laura Haris." She held her breath, waiting for a response. Nothing. Her heart even seemed to stop, waiting for a reply of some sort.

After a quick glance around her, she slowly opened the door until her head could fit through. A sense of guilt pelted within her brain, just behind the eyes as she squinted into the room. "It's pitch black in here, it's as if there's no window in the place." She widened the space further, stepping into the office entirely. It was definitely larger than Professor Layton's, but a lot darker, given the opaque, drawn window coverings. She walked closer to the desk, using the light from the hallway as a weak guide. Then she stopped.

Laura choked, breath and voice caught and failed in her throat. Her brain spun wildly, trying to process the scene that lay before her. In the matter of a few seconds, her mind was already trying to make up scenarios to free the current circumstances from the truth, trying to wrap itself around the facts without committing to them. Her sense of logic was too strong, the reeling fantasies of denial dissipating as quickly as they formed.

The Headmaster lay halfway on the floor, halfway into a low shelf of the floor-to-ceiling bookcase, the shelf's contents spread across the office floor in front of him. His body was stiff, lifeless. A pool of dark, sticky-looking blood was noticeable on the floor beneath him, fed from several half-dried tributaries that had their source from open puncture wounds in his chest, lacerations across his face. His jaw was slack, hanging loose to one side as if broken, a dark froth caked about his lips. What was visible of his eyes was a dull glare, courtesy of the light in the hallway. They were blank, staring at her but seeing nothing. Even if not for the wounds and obvious traits of blunt trauma, it still would have been obvious by his eyes alone that he was dead.

She didn't even know that she'd screamed. Her brain was completely on autopilot. Her hands covered her ears instead of her eyes, almost as if deafening her sense of hearing would silence the endless sounds and thoughts going through her head.

"Oh my God, oh my God, oh dear God, why, why? Someone, please… Oh God, please…" She backed up slowly into the door frame, bumping into someone again, yet it was a softer blow this time. She looked up wildly, top-hatless Layton looking down at her, almost as if he already feared for the worst.

"Laura, someone down the hall said they heard a scream. What on earth is going on? What's happened?"

"Oh God, Professor, it's—it's the Headmaster, he's—!" She slumped messily to the floor, pointing shakily in the direction of the dead body. "He's dead, he's been murdered! Right here, right in this school, he's—"

Professor Layton met her at floor level, sitting on his heels. He held onto her carefully, hands on her shoulders. "Oh my word, Morris… Who in the world…?" He was stirred from the typical stage of hypothesizing as his student shuddered, shaken by uncontrollable sobs.

"P-Professor, what do we do? He's…he's just been…ruined like this! It's so shameful, it's horrible, vile! I don't know what to do…" She allowed herself to be pulled backward into a firm embrace despite the nausea flip-flopping in her stomach. She didn't know if it was the state the Headmaster's body was in, or the fact he was now a spiritless corpse, a stark contrast to the dancing man at the conference just months ago.

"Laura, shh, it's okay, we aren't going to do anything. You aren't going to do anything. I need to inform the police quickly. For now, we need to return to my office, quickly now." He wiped her eyes on the back of his shirt sleeve, brushing loose hairs from her face. "Try to look as natural as possible. I don't want to make a scene of this…"

He directed her hastily to his office, shutting the door in a hurry. Laura sat in her typical chair, not hearing the phone dial, the report to the police, the brief information given over the line. The Professor finally hung up, walking quickly over to Laura's chair. "Laura, I need you to give me all of the information that you can recall. I believe it will all be imperative to this case."

She looked up, eyes red from silent crying. "What's going to happen? Are the police coming? What if they want to question us? What if they think we did something? My fingerprints, they're on that door handle, I—I don't think I want to be interrogated right now…"

Layton bent down and grasped the arms of the chair she was in, shaking it slightly. He gave her a serious look. "Laura, listen, you need to calm yourself. I need you to tell me any details you can recall clearly. It's absolutely critical that you do so."

She swallowed hard, ending in a sharp gasp. "As soon as I left your office, I went to the head faculty office suite. I had a paper to give to Professor Warvel for English Composition, and as I walked by the Headmaster's door, I noticed it was open a bit, as if the door didn't quite catch when pulled shut. But, the light wasn't on, and it was pitch black. So I knocked, stated my presence, and opened the door slowly when I didn't hear a reply. That's when I found him there all…well, all stabbed up like."

His eyes were boring holes into hers, but he wasn't looking at her. His mind was elsewhere, aflame, trying to make any sense of it all. He sighed, his lips in a slanted frown. "I need more information."

"Professor, maybe you should just leave it to—"

Sirens wailed vaguely from somewhere outside the building, becoming louder as they drew nearer. They stopped, and the Professor and Laura waited. Any minute, someone would knock at the Professor's door. Suddenly Layton rose back to his full height, striding quickly to the door.

"I'm going to go talk with them. You stay here. I'll come get you if we need you." He slammed the door behind him, leaving Laura to herself. She removed her shoes and pulled her legs up to her chest. It was shocking, she decided, being the first to come across a murder scene, discovering something so grisly without expecting it. She supposed it wasn't often that things like this happened at college campuses, much less to their headmasters.

'Who would have wanted Headmaster Ginlade dead? It doesn't add up. He's one of the most respected and jolly scholars this side of the Thames, and now he's gone. Sliced up, bloodied. Perhaps even poisoned. That stuff around his mouth alluded to that. Oh, his poor wife, I'd hate to be the one to tell her.'

The door opened again suddenly, a group of uptight and stuffy officers fighting their way through the door way, Professor Layton following behind. A barrel-chested, gruff looking man stepped forward towards Laura, puffing his chest out proudly. If it weren't for the circumstances, Laura would have found it difficult to contain her laughter, as his chest hair protruded from his shirt like a patch of thick moss. The man cleared his throat.

"Laura Haris? Inspector Grosky, Scotland Yard. Your professor here tells me that you stumbled upon this unfortunate, frightful scene. Anyone less might have been driven to madness, puddles of tears, perhaps puddles of something else! For your bravery, I commend you." He shook her hand, almost comically. "Now then, I need you to relay to me the exact steps you took, the exact things you saw, up to the point of discovering the body. Quickly now, I want to catch the murderer posthaste! I'm sure he's still hanging about! But don't forget anything pertinent!"

Laura paused, making sure the inspector was even listening to her as he flexed his biceps continuously. She glanced sideways at the Professor, who rubbed his forehead tiredly.

'Is this inspector guy for real?'

She reiterated everything, detail for detail, as best as she could. Her brain was starting to hurt, recalling the scene again and again, trying to remember any details that she might have forgotten.

"I tried the door knob as I walked in. It was unlocked. I thought maybe the Headmaster had went to shut the door and it didn't catch, which would make sense why it was open, but…it was unlocked after all. That's all that I found strange, then…I saw what was inside."

Inspector Grosky snapped his fingers, doing some sort of strange victory dance as he flexed and leaned on his thighs. "That's it! A murder! Did you boys copy her story down? A recording? Great, excellent. Miss Haris, I apologize for your fateful placement in today's events, but thank you heartily for being such a willing witness. You have helped make England that much more safe. And now! To scout the area! Come, men!"

Without so much as a second thought, the disheveled, motley crew exited, Grosky's loud calls sounding off the floors and walls as he promenaded down the hall. Laura sighed.

"That was…different."

Layton rubbed his eyes, replacing his hat on his head. "Quite. Inspector Grosky's quite fond of…emplying a forceful style of detective work. As for me, I'm quite ready to leave for today. Class is canceled, needless to say. The students were placed on lockdown but are slowly being escorted home safely."

Laura frowned. "What about the Headmaster? Have they removed him yet? What about his wife?"

With a groan, the Professor sat in the chair next to her. "Forensics is still in the office, taking down every detail they can manage to find. Mrs. Ginlade… I don't know who is going to inform her. Poor girl, I do feel awful about it all. It's strange, the Headmaster was so busy, so distant as of late. I hadn't so much as spoken with him, even in passing, in the past month."

'Passing…oh!'

Laura jumped up from her seat, startling her teacher. "Professor, I just remembered something!"

He looked at her in earnest. "What is it?"

"When I left your office, I bumped into somebody, a tall young man, a bit older than me maybe. He barely even looked at me and kept walking, down past your office door, towards the entrance of the building."

Layton stood up, anticipating more information. "Was he coming from the area of the Headmaster's office?"

"He could have been, but he could have also been coming from the main hallway. He was wearing a black suit coat and khaki pants."

"Anything else to distinguish him by?"

Laura thought hard. "Not really. His nose was a tad pointed, but not birdlike, and his eyes were a bit harsh looking, but not sinister. He wasn't carrying anything, which I thought was odd. It was as if he didn't belong, like he shouldn't have been here." Gulping, she rubbed her hands together. "You don't think that he could have been the…killer, do you?"

"It very well could have been, but then again, it may have just been any regular visitor, or a Gressenheller student. I have my reservations on coming to conclusions without more information but… I may have a name for our mystery man." Laura made to ask who he suspected, but he raced to the door. "I'll be back. I need to inform the Inspector about these new details. Was there anything else? Rattle your brain!"

She shook her head. "No—thing," she whispered as the door slammed without letting her finish. "Wow, I hope I didn't just ruin things. I'm really out of it…"

'But I suppose it isn't every day that one comes across these things…no. I don't think I handled it as poorly as I could have. Some might have really been affected in a bad way. I just…need some rest. Poor Headmaster. I hope he wasn't in a lot of pain, or fear. What a hopeless situation, to be faced with a killer. I wonder if he even had a chance. How dreadful!'

It was several minutes before the Professor returned, this time with a warm smile, for which Laura was grateful. "Ready to go? We've been cleared to leave."

She slowly grabbed her bag, walking to the door sluggishly. "I really can't believe all of this. I'm at a loss for words…"

"It really has been a tough day, and one that we'll never forget. But, as Inspector Grosky said, I'm thankful that you handled it so well. It's good you regained your composure. They needed those minute details leading up to your discovery." His expression changed to sadness, his eyes dour. "I wish it didn't have to be this way, and I'm sorry you had to be dragged into this. You must let me know if you find yourself mentally struggling in any way. Sometimes people need to talk it out with a counselor to free themselves of dreadful nightmares or the like. It really was…quite gruesome and horrific. I apologize."

"I'm used to bad luck. It's not my first dead body. I discovered my brother having passed as well, in his bed during the night. It just wasn't as…gory." She reached towards the door as he grabbed his belongings. "Um, I hate to ask, but would you mind giving me a ride? I'm not up to making the walk back today."

"But of course! I intended to drive you even if you didn't ask."

They walked through the dark and quiet halls, an eerie feeling filling the vacuum of silence. It was as if the place wasn't an area of learning anymore, rather, a permanent crime scene. Laura shivered as she pictured the Headmaster stabbed, stabbed, stabbed again, falling to the shelf, scrambling to breathe, begging to live, left to die. She remained silent, even into the car.

"What are you thinking about, Laura?" Layton asked quietly, driving the car onto the main road.

"I never specified where I needed a ride to."

"Indeed, I wondered if you had picked up on that. Name your destination."

She scratched her head, running her fingers through her hair. "I'm not feeling up to going home just yet. Could we go somewhere else? I don't feel very good."

The Professor took an early turn down his own street, parking the car outside his garage. "How's this?"

Inside, Laura stared blankly at the steaming cup set in front of her.

"I know you don't like hot tea, but this will calm your nerves. I can tell something's bothering you." Professor Layton sat down directly opposite his student at the small table in the living room. "Even after all that's…transpired, you still won't confide in me?"

She shook her head. "It's not that, it's just…I feel silly, telling what I'm thinking. And my feelings, those are so fleeting, it's stupid to talk about them. Really, it is." Folding her hands in her lap, she looked at them, trying not to fall into sobbing. She didn't know why, but the images of the office, the body, the possible conclusions to be drawn all continued to race circles in her head. Typically, she would shut off her brain and just psyche herself out, but she felt unable to do much more than breath. Her eyes felt tired.

Layton got up and sat down next to her, craning his body to look up into her downcast face. "Laura, it's not stupid to talk about such things. You really musn't bottle your emotions up like this. If you're in some sort of rut, I'd like to know."

Laura snorted. "Busybody."

"No, somebody. I'm a 'somebody' who wants to help you, so you should value that more."

Sullenness notwithstanding, she grinned shyly. "Okay, fine. I keep picturing how the whole incident ensued. The pain, the agony. Headmaster Ginlade's office keeps popping into my thoughts. I just…I hope soon, it will go away. It's still fresh, so maybe that's why it's so bad, but…I really need a release. I don't want to think of it any more. I don't see how anyone can commit a crime like that. So, so calculated!" Her grin turned into a scowl, eyes glaring as if at the murderer unknown, blood boiling in hidden veins. "It had to have been planned. It makes me so mad, I could just, just! Hurt someone! It's just—"

Without any warning, the Professor stood and ruffled the hair on the top of her head, laughing as he walked towards the kitchen. Laura turned in her seat, thoroughly confused. "What in the—what was that about?"

"You're full of surprises. One moment, you're about in tears, and the next? You sound like a contestant in a boxing ring!" He returned with a pitcher of dark liquid, pouring her a cup full. "I made some tea the other day. I've been keeping it in the refrigerator in case you came by." Handing it to her, he bent down and kissed her forehead, Laura staring up at him cross-eyed.

"Why do you keep doing that? It's not really—"

"Why do you always ask questions?" he asked rhetorically, smiling at her fondly. "Would you rather I stop?"

She sat silent, glowering at him over the rim of her cup. "I don't know."

"I think you do. Anyway, I should get you back home."

It was funny, how quickly time went by. One minute she was anxious to leave the campus, visit the Professor's house again. The next, she was on her way home. The events of the day were definitely atypical.

'I guess I never really know what to expect in a day, even with a boring simple life like mine!'

She sat quietly as they drove down her street, stopping in front of her house.

"Well, here you are, my dear. Safe and sound." He turned toward her, his usual smile stretched across his lips. "Oh, by the way, I have your daily puzzle for you. I'll just give it to you now, as our usual schedule has been altered significantly."

Laura gasped sharply. "I totally forgot mine in your office at Gressenheller. I had it on the coffee table, and was going to give it to you then, but I fell asleep…"

"That's fine, I'm going there after this, but here's yours. Your only hint is that it's slightly similar to the one I gave you on the first day of class."

"Hints before I even try to solve it?" she scoffed. "Do you think I'm hopeless?"

"Nonsense, but I remembered how nicely you solved that one, and wondered if you'd like this one just the same:

You're expecting a package, and it has to be signed for before it will be relinquished by the postman. Its delivery time is 4:30 PM, but you work until 5:00 PM, and won't be home until 5:15 PM every Monday – Friday. Every day you fail to sign, the postman just brings it the next day to try again.

It's finally the last day of the weekend, and you are home from work, ready to sign. When can you expect your package to arrive and finally be signed for?"

-Dearest readers, don't proceed until you've solved it yourself!-

Laura sat quietly, gazing at the radio button under the clock display. Then she chuckled. "Ah, you think you're clever with all those words! It's all needless information. The package will never be delivered that day, as the 'last day of the weekend' is Sunday. There's no post on Sundays!"

Professor Layton laughed, rather amused. "Indeed. It was quite simple, wasn't it. And the package won't ever be delivered it seems, unless you take the day off. Well, there's no class tomorrow, it should go without saying. I suppose I'll see you and your puzzles again when classes resume on Monday."

Laura looked at him accusingly. "Monday? You'll last that long?"

Layton coughed, cheeks turning red as he tried to offer a rebuttal. "Well, I—Now see here, whatever do you mean by that?"

"And how about that cough just now? It answers my question enough."

Brow furrowed, he sighed. "One minute, you're quiet as a mouse, the next you're counteracting me with uncomfortable questions! I—now what is so funny?"

She laughed unsympathetically. "That's how it feels to be flustered and bothered by a million puzzles. Now you know what I had to deal with, what with your obscure comments and questioning. I'm just blunt, is all."

"Your style is abrasive and very unforgiving," he mumbled, realizing he'd been trounced and conquered. "But I suppose it's only fair…"

"I'll take that as an answer too." She unclipped her belt and leaned towards him, subconscious directing her, leaving a quick peck to his cheek. "Monday? Oi, Monday, Professor? Oops, I mean Hershel?" She stepped out of the car.

Layton's face turned a dark crimson, hat pulled almost entirely over his eyes. "Well, I suppose if you won't be busy, I could always…well, you know, I'm always doing something, always busy, but if I get the time…"

"Yeah, I'll see you tomorrow."

Feeling giddy and slightly stupid, she ran up to the front door and disappeared behind it, admonishing herself for being so girly.

'Oh, I'm such a card!'

END.

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