She frowned, and if Francis looked closely enough, he would see a little panic in her eyes. "Damnit. Let me see?"
She laughed, although it sounded a bit more like a groan. "You don't know Evan very well," she said, quickly typing out a reply. "He gets easily alarmed."
"I'm not planning on giving him your address, Francis," she said, glancing over her phone. "You can't help me with the project if you're dead."
She set down her phone and returned to her book. "Yeah. Let's." Almost 20 minutes later, there came a knock at the door.
Francis barely looked up, and someone else opened the door. His voice was lower than Francis', but similar. "The hell are you?"
Evan's voice would be unmistakable. "I'm Poppy's boyfriend," he said firmly. "I've come to pick her up." Poppy sat up straight, and all the color drained from her cheeks.
"Could I see her?" he inquired politely. Poppy frowned. "I should probably go with him before things get too serious," she murmured to Francis.
She looked up at him, her notebook halfway in her bag. "It's fine," she said quietly. "Everything is fine."
"I can try to talk to him," she said quietly. "He might listen to me. But he'll get angry pretty soon, I think."
