“And you’re—- entitled to your own opinion. So. What you think of my parkour is really nothing that will effect my life in any way.” Did that make sense? She’s not sure it made sense. She’s still reeling from her fall and terrible improvisation. “Well, where am I supposed to go to learn? There’s nothing to jump from inside!”
"…–“
Balfour merely heaves the greatest of all sighs and decides he’s not going to point out the obvious. Like, how they might actually have places for that sort of thing. If she’s so dim, there’s absolutely no reason to get in natural selection’s way and help her out. It’s for the greater good, at the end of the day. Definitely.
Shifty eyes. Parkour. That’s the jumping thing, right? Emma pushes herself off of the ground and dusts herself off, shrugging a little bit as though it’ll keep the pink from her cheeks - how embarrassing! Honest to God, most days, her wings work. She wonders what’s up with them today.
"Right. Well, you’re shit at it, just saying.“ That was rude, but he doesn’t really care. She’s welcome to walk away if she doesn’t want to deal with his abuse, after all. "I’d suggest not doing stuff like that in public until you’re, y'know, not shit. But, hey, if you want to be an idiot, I can’t stop you."
She opens her mouth to explain that she thought that she’d fly, rather than get her butt handed to her by the floor, then realises she’ll probably sound like a loon. Mouth shuts.
“Yeah. I guess. You’re right.”
"Yeah, I guess I am. What were you even trying to do?“
Brows perk and Balfour tilts his head aside briefly. It had looked like quite the display of stupidity; he’s curious as to what she was trying to manage from it all.
