[It takes a minute for Whelk to recognize Francis. Maybe that's not true. Maybe he doesn't want to admit that he knows his face as soon as he sees it. Maybe it's easier to pretend that he doesn't still dream about it before pleasantries turn to nightmares and he wakes up in a cold sweat. Maybe part of him wishes he'd murdered the idea of Francis along with that boy in the woods seven years ago.
[He hadn't, of course. But he certainly didn't think he'd ever have to face him again. He'd hoped he wouldn't have to. He definitely didn't expect to see him here, back at Aglionby after disappearing seven years ago. After all, Aglionby students did not become Aglionby teachers - and yet, here they both are, standing in the elevator.
[And then, just as quickly, before Whelk has any time to process what to say or how to act, they're both stuck in the elevator. Francis clutches his arm, and Whelk jumps just as the lights dim to emergency lighting. He echoes Francis's muttered curse.
[It's a fair enough distraction, at least. Something to make small talk about that isn't the weather. Whelk always does better with commiseration than with actual conversation. And he's definitely not ready to talk about anything that should be said between the two of them. Now he doesn't even have to offer an awkward greeting. Instead, he can just say:] Damn thing...
[Francis is still clutching his arm, which Whelk tries to subtly step away from. It feels wrong to have the man's hands anywhere near him. They're as good as strangers now. Whelk certainly isn't the person that Francis thinks he remembers.]
You'd think for how much money this place makes-- [He cuts himself off with busying his fist against the door open button.] The damn elevators would work. Jesus...
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[He hadn't, of course. But he certainly didn't think he'd ever have to face him again. He'd hoped he wouldn't have to. He definitely didn't expect to see him here, back at Aglionby after disappearing seven years ago. After all, Aglionby students did not become Aglionby teachers - and yet, here they both are, standing in the elevator.
[And then, just as quickly, before Whelk has any time to process what to say or how to act, they're both stuck in the elevator. Francis clutches his arm, and Whelk jumps just as the lights dim to emergency lighting. He echoes Francis's muttered curse.
[It's a fair enough distraction, at least. Something to make small talk about that isn't the weather. Whelk always does better with commiseration than with actual conversation. And he's definitely not ready to talk about anything that should be said between the two of them. Now he doesn't even have to offer an awkward greeting. Instead, he can just say:] Damn thing...
[Francis is still clutching his arm, which Whelk tries to subtly step away from. It feels wrong to have the man's hands anywhere near him. They're as good as strangers now. Whelk certainly isn't the person that Francis thinks he remembers.]
You'd think for how much money this place makes-- [He cuts himself off with busying his fist against the door open button.] The damn elevators would work. Jesus...