Who: Evan Rosier & Merrell Riddleswap What: Merrell said that Evan should come to read something When: Saturdaaaay before and into the flip... Where: Merrell's room Warnings: Mentions of death, Evan reacting really poorly to what's about to be figured out. No, really. BAD REACTIONS ARE GO. Include self harm. Yes. Include that.
Evan had grabbed a bottle of whiskey before deciding to grab a bottle of scotch to go with it. It was better to be prepared. She didn't know what she was about to find out, but her mind could think of a few things. Of course, her mind refused to acknowledge the possibility of death. Azkaban. It was probably Azkaban. She could handle Azkaban. She wasn't there now. She didn't have to worry about how she'd feel about it. That was probably it. Yes. That.
If she was hugging the bottles of alcohol, it was because she didn't want them to fall, not because she was worried. That was her story and she would stick to it. An expression of neutrality was in place as per usual. Trying to act like she was her normal happy, cheerful self was too difficult when she could actually feel the dread circling around her. She was disgusted by it, if she was honest. She was letting an emotion affect her. This was somehow Merrell's fault. She was going to have to talk to him about ominous messages.
Once she reached his room, she knocked on the door, forcing her expression to stay neutral. Maybe he'd been overreacting. Certainly he was overreacting. There was nothing to worry about. Nothing.