"No, wait. What's going to be ready in an hour?" Bellamy demands, before he follows after her. The armorer answers him with a smile; the assistants are in a deep bow, so they miss the threat of Bellamy's glare. And Freddie is already gone, disappeared out that door, and if he's not going to get his answer here he'll have to get it from her, a point to which he concedes with an irritated sigh.
Outside, it's as sunny and lovely a day as it was when they entered the shop. Freddie's boots click on the cobblestones and pavement. Bellamy's tread is heavier, a rush to catch up with her.
"Hey," he says, when she's in earshot, "what's going to be ready in an hour? I don't like surprises."
But he does like bookshops. As they draw up closer to the bookshop, as it becomes apparent that this is their intended destination, Bellamy loses some of his intensity. Warily, he eyes the window before he shoots his gaze back to Freddie. Like maybe this is a trap.
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Outside, it's as sunny and lovely a day as it was when they entered the shop. Freddie's boots click on the cobblestones and pavement. Bellamy's tread is heavier, a rush to catch up with her.
"Hey," he says, when she's in earshot, "what's going to be ready in an hour? I don't like surprises."
But he does like bookshops. As they draw up closer to the bookshop, as it becomes apparent that this is their intended destination, Bellamy loses some of his intensity. Warily, he eyes the window before he shoots his gaze back to Freddie. Like maybe this is a trap.