( oh, OK. Good. I was a little concerned there.) A knock came at Francis's door several hours later. A timid voice spoke up from behind the wood. "Mr. Craw, it's time for dinner."
It took a moment for the door to open. Francis stood in the doorway, a bit sluggish from sleep. He brushed his hair back, as it was slightly ruffled. "Alright. Thank you for telling me."
Poppy was already seated when Francis entered the room. She was sitting by herself, running her finger along the tablecloth, when Evan came over to her and spoke in a low, quick voice. She frowned, and looked up at him, and shook her head. Evan's jaw hardened, and he turned on his heel and walked away, leaving Poppy looking slightly annoyed.
"More of the same," she groaned, pressing her fingertips against her eyelids. "You don't have to look so happy about it, you know."
"Yeah, I'm all right. Thanks. I think he's a little annoyed with me though." She looked up at him, smiling slightly. "How about you? You feeling better after your interrogation?"
"Yeah. I think I needed the sleep." He sat back, crossing his fingers. "Y'know, you could always tell him to step off."
" I tried," she said with frustration. "I told him that I was sorry, but it just wasn't going to work out. He's just so determined."
She stared at him for a moment, and then looked down at her food. "Not funny," she said, the edge of her lips curving upwards.
He continued speaking in a spooky voice, flicking up his collar to look cool. "Death is the ultimate punchline."
"Fine. Just don't bury me in tasteless clothes. I already have a suit picked out specifically for my funeral," he said, lifting a finger.
