Username: 
Password:    
Remember Me

Search by :  Username E-mail Region Interest AOL IM ICQ Number Yahoo! ID MSN Username Jabber

Helena Wells-Quinzel is H.G. Wells (indelibleink) wrote in makebelievelog,

"As positively fascinating as that would be, it would be largely meaningless to me, unfortunately. Which is something I should work on remedying." Sipping her water, she was debating taking courses at the university come the fall. Up until fairly recently, she hadn't known what she even wanted to study given her varied and very diverse interests. But she seemed to now be leaning more towards learning about electronics and the inner workings of machines. It would certainly help if she could learn such things so she didn't have to rely on Claudia or Anakin teaching her when she wanted to build robots and the like.

So it was sitting in silence and Helena was coming up with a battle plan. Because the meal she was about to embark upon was a battle. Anything as messy as what she'd seen transpire at other tables in the restaurant should be considered a battle. But Claudia's plan of distracting Helena from worrying too much over engagement ring choices was working. That was, for the moment, far from the forefront of her mind. Now in its place was mild worry and strategizing how to not make a mess of herself.

Though once their food came out, Helena actually stared at the ribs for a minute or two, her face contorted into a look that was somewhere between horrified and repulsed. But she was not to be defeated by this. No, she would somehow succeed in this endeavour if it killed her. Taking a napkin and setting it on her lap, Helena again hesitated, trying to decide whether to attack the food with silverware as civilized people were supposed to eat, or if she would stoop to the barbaric gesture of using her fingers.