She crossed her arms and stepped back, her expression pained. She took a shaky breath, hinting at the tears that threatened to overcome her. "God. I wish I could believe you." She shook her head, turned on her heel, and walked away. She crossed the main lobby quickly and didn't seem to notice that Evan watched her from his spot on the wall, his gaze following her as she turned a corner and left. His gaze flickered to Francis' for a moment, and his expression was unreadable. He pushed himself away from the wall and began to walk away, going in the same direction Poppy went.
Francis barely noticed Evan, but he still felt anger at the faintest thought. He crossed his arms, slowly following after.
Poppy walked quickly, moving through the halls not with the intention of arriving at a destination, but with the pure need to get away. Eventually, she managed to find a secluded hallway, and she leaned against the wall with her hands to her eyelids, trying to control her breathing. It only took a couple minutes for Evan to catch up with her. "Poppy?" he asked quietly, approaching her. Poppy looked up and exhaled, hastily swiping at her eyes. "Oh," she said, clearing her throat. "Hey Evan." "Are you okay?" he asked, his expression gentle. She straightened up and brushed her hands on her jeans. "I'm fine," she said tersely, her voice jumping in her throat. He hesitated and then reached a hand out to touch her shoulder. Poppy shied away from his touch and shook her head. "I'm sorry, Evan. I can't really talk right now. I'll see you." She turned on her heel and walked away, turning the corner and leaving Evan standing alone in the hallway.
"I don't think she's quite ready yet," a voice sounded. Vivienne appeared from behind him, her arms crossed. "You're making yourself seem kinda desperate, yeah?" (Vivienne: an ass to her enemies and alliances!)
(Lol. She's right tho.) Evan watched the spot where Poppy had left, and then he turned to Vivienne. "Maybe," he said, frowning. "But I just don't see how she got so attached to him so quickly. I mean, they've only been going out for a couple weeks now, yeah? And she thinks that he did this really awful thing. I don't see why it's so hard for her to move on from him. It was just a little fling."
"He didn't treat it like a fling. I've seen them around, and he's acting how he did during our relationship. I'm not sure about her, though. You'd think you would just get on with it." She blew hair out of her face. "It's a tad confusing."
He groaned and then reached into his pocket and pulled out more folded papers. "I gotta get rid of these," he said urgently. "If either of them found these, it would be over."
Evan nodded and began to rip them up. "You're right. You're right." He finished and threw them in the waste paper basket. "They won't find them."
"They won't even care to look," she said, leaning against the wall. "I have to get out of here. Got some stupid translation thing I need to work on. We'll talk more about it later."
"Okay," he replied. "I'll see you later." He departed, moving down the hallway nervously before he turned the corner and disappeared.
She thoughtfully stared at the photos in the garbage can, before turning the corner of the hallway, only to find Francis sitting on the floor against the wall. His gaze was deadly as he watched the ground, but his eyes turned up to hers. They were blank. Emotionless. He stood up, and she cowered. "I will never forgive you for this. In all of my life, I will never forgive you." His voice was concise and forced. She backed away, starting to head for the opposite hall without a word, going to tell Evan, but he harshly grabbed her arm, his grip strong, if not painful. "Stay away from us. Don't even think about coming near us again." She pulled her arm away, rubbing where he had held. She didn't say anything, mostly out of fear, and ran off. He watched her go, covering his mouth seconds after she disappeared. Walking over to the garbage, he looked in at the ripped up pieces, and gathered them, putting them together like a puzzle. He covered his mouth, finally realizing. Shuffling them up again, he picked up the pieces and went back to his room, hoping to tape them together for proof, even though he hated seeing them.
(Ohhhhh damn.) Poppy stood up from her bed where she had lain moments before. She paced the room before finally pulling her bag off its hook and opening her drawers. She pulled out the clothing that she had folded and stuffed it into her pack, not bothering to organize it at all. She had decided. She was leaving. She would go to the main lobby, ask to be reassigned, and then get off wherever they happened to be stationed, and figure out her next move. Her hands trembled as she packed, and tears threatened to spill from her eyes until she wiped them away angrily. One way or another, it would be over.
Francis slammed his door shut after he got to his room. He tossed the pieces onto the top of his dresser, and searched for tape. After a moment, he found it and hastily put the pictures back together, working diligently. For some reason, he felt tears well up in his eyes, but he ignored them. He knew things depended on this.
Poppy closed her door quietly and noticed a cleaning crew working on one of the rooms. She walked over to them and quickly let them know that she would be leaving her room. The man nodded and they unlocked her door with their master key and entered, brandishing their mops, feather dusters and brooms. Poppy watched for a moment before turning on her heel and walking down the hallway, heading towards the main lobby.
Francis took a step back, looking at his handiwork. He quickly gathered them together, and threw open his door. He looked down the and saw Poppy. He began going after her. "Wait! Poppy!"
She flinched at the sound of his voice, but paused at the end of the hallway, her hand on the wall, and her expression one of resignation. She turned to look at him, but said nothing, her fingers closing around the strap of her bag protectively.
He caught up, looking at the pictures with intensity. "Look, I-" he paused, noticing the bag. "Are.. Are you going somewhere?"
Her fingers squeezed around the strap tighter, and she hesitated before she spoke. "I'm going to ask to be reassigned," she said eventually, her voice quiet.
He didn't say anything, but his expression told most of how he was feeling. Hurt, confused, on the verge of giving up. Instead, he held out the pictures that he had taped back together. No words escaped his mouth, and he was still, only moving to show her what he had found.
