Evan will draw you like one of his french girls. (what) wrote in traintickets,
The burning on his arm had woken up Evan from his nap. At first he wasn't sure what it was that had pulled him out of his dreams, but after reading through what had been written in the journals he slowly started to realize it was more than just a bad case of poison ivy. No, something serious was going down and he was expected to be a part of it. The writings in the journals made it sound like the Dark Lord had returned, but surely that wasn't the case.
It couldn't have been. That would mean they'd have to return to England.
Quickly pulling on whatever clothes he could find Evan made his way out of the room and downstairs, stopping outside the open door. A part of him wanted to escape back upstairs, to the still warm bed, and pretend none of this was happening. Because if it really was true, if the Dark Lord had returned, he surely wasn't going to be very impressed with how little Evan had done in the past weeks.
Knowing well enough escaping the situation would be far worse than just facing whatever was going on right now, he let out a heavy sigh and entered the room as silently as possible, choosing a nice shady corner to stay in and observe the situation. If there ever was a time for him to hold his tongue, this was certainly it.