Re: The Schoolboy/The Witch
Her words conjured up the image of his headmaster strict, a beard covering most of his face, and the glare that followed the students as they entered the dining hall every meal period, and despite himself Oliver laughed. "No, you're right. I don't think they like anything at all," he said this perhaps a little more loudly than he intended, which caused a glance around, but then his eyes were back on her face and he was smiling, bright and eager. "What's ale like?" He asked her. "The Cordial was sort of sweet and I don't know if it was my favorite, honestly."
Her skin was warm, and he smiled at it, and wrapped his fingers around hers as his eyes dropped to their feet. Right foot, then eight steps then left foot leading, and that seemed easy enough, but following her was more difficult than it first looked that it might be and he did stumble on his first try through the right, but he repeated it without her prompting, his brain wrapping around the steps with more ferocity than he might one of the Latin grammar phrases he had to memorize. This was different than that, a mixture of both physical and mental, and while he'd never been particularly brilliant at sports - although he'd been required to play a good number of somewhat dull ones at the school - this came a bit more easily on the second time through, and he glanced up a question if it was antiquate as he waited for her to show him the left foot too.