“I suppose.” Foulques sighs, turning cooperatively when prompted so Zynaeria can measure his waist. But when Foulques holds out an arm and looks at her meaningfully, she shrugs and goes back to measuring, taking the patterns apart to make adjustments for her boyfriend’s frame. “…that was quick.” Zynaeria mutters, still confused.
The student throws off the patterns (Zynaeria yells at him to be careful, if he tore those there would be hell to pay) and takes off out the door.įoulques watches the door slam behind the departing figure. “I shall explain to the club advisor that we are swapping exhibition partners. He is very likely seeking refuge in the library.”Īt this, both Zyn and the other student look at Foulques blankly. The Duskwight points at the currently third-wheeling student, still draped with measuring tape and half-cut cloth patterns. “Telling him that his skill wasn’t nearly ready for the interschool club competition, even if he studied hard for weeks? A bit much, don’t you think?” “…was that really warranted?” she asks when her boyfriend sidles over to her with a glare at the model. Zynaeria looks over from where she stands, in the process of taking arm measurements on another classmate. “Foulques-senpai, you’re so mean!” And with that statement, there is a clatter of balsa wood and foam squares upon the shop classroom’s floor, while a tearful second-year runs off into the hallways.
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