She paused, looking down at the desk, and a slow smile spread across her face. "I know," she said, looking up at him. "He didn't like you either."
She laughed deeply, a warm sound in her throat. She rested her head on her free hand and her eyes flickered up to his. "Oh, we did. Although, 'gossiping' is too strong a word. More like he would complain about things that you did and then I would tell him not to worry about it. He did plot how to mess with you, though."
"Just little things," she said. "He wanted to fill your cleats with mayonnaise, plant a smoke bomb under your car so you think that something is wrong, things like that. Unfortunately, he was never really that creative."
"Mmhm," she said, turning to look out the window. A fog had settled outside, making the world beyond seem silvery, mysterious and new. "Mayonnaise. Don't tell him I told you, though."
"Yeah," she said, turning to look at him. Her eyes were the same color as the mist outside, except where the fog outside was cool and ominous, her eyes were warm. "Would you be up for seeing something really, really cool?"
She grinned and stood up. "It's outside," she said, retying her ponytail with a little difficulty with one hand. "Want to come?"
"No," she said, pulling her grey trenchcoat off a hook on the wall. She tied the string around her waist, and opened the door. "It's cooler than that."
"It's a surprise," she said smoothly as they went down the stairs. They passed through the dining room on the way to the door and the young boy from earlier and Emma were sitting at the table drawing. "I'll be back soon," she told them, kissing the tops of their heads as she passed. "Be good." They murmured quiet words of agreement, barely glancing up from their work, and Poppy stepped outside, waiting for him in the chill air.
