Re: Train tracks: Oliver & Gwen
The girl asked him why he'd winced, and Oliver momentarily felt like arguing that he hadn't, but then he thought better of saying anything at all. He didn't know how to explain the faces he made when he was thinking events through, and because he didn't know how to explain, Oliver felt that he shouldn't have to. He decided in that moment, to conveniently be above having to explain himself. It seemed like a stable plan in the moment, but the foundation proved week when the girl stepped forward and pointed her hand at him. Oliver took her fingers, and he shook them because that seemed like something that people did. Her fingers immediately became smudged with lavender and daffodil chalk remains.
Oliver's social experiences weren't as limited as hers, but he was no Jude. Oliver did better with distances and crowds, one-on-one wasn't his strongest method of interaction, the margin for error was too great. He often became anxious over nothing at all, and here he was without the safety net of Jude's dimples. Crap.
He frowned at the tracks when she questioned his medium's longevity. He stared after her with his own very blue eyes, sneaking a curious look in while she seemed to be looking at the tracks, and then quickly back down to where the fake flowers rested under their feet. "I don't need it to be here forever. It is alright if it gets washed away."