Re: The Schoolboy/The Witch
Perhaps another person would have wondered at this, but he'd been away from his own family for so long that they were largely sets of expectations and ways to uphold family name and fortunes, and so he couldn't feel that it would have been a great loss to have not had either parent in his life, not really. What he had been offered had always come with the expectation of him behaving appropriately and so he was not put off by her comment.
Surprise then came at her next words, the very suggestion countering everything that was expected of him. Faking illness, sneaking out, daring to not live for approval - it was something scandalous from where he was sitting, and he was both repulsed and intrigued in turn. He should be only repulsed and he knew it, but the idea of dances that were nothing like his, and the idea of conspiring with someone - particularly someone with this particular light in her eyes, and the way she was looking at him right in this particular moment - was thrilling. It was impossible for it not to be. He had always played by the rules, and he'd never done anything bad, and the adults disapproved of much.
His eyes glanced down to her hand, and there was a battle that went on beneath his breast. He should say no, it was a sitting car on a train, it was very public, there were people there who might see his uniform and report back, but what were they reporting? There were people here, it was chaperoned, it wasn't his compartment - that thought started pink round his ears - and dancing was appropriate enough. "We don't have any music," he countered, but even as he said the words he'd reached for her hand.