He felt a surge of pleasure from having the book in hand, and stepped away backwards with it, impervious to her huffy complaints. Every girl complained about their brothers; it didn't mean a thing. Frida was just sensitive, that was all. He'd been trying to help her, after all, to grow a backbone - and this proved that it was working, hadn't it? Not quite in leaps and bounds, but still.
Just a book, she said, and Kristoffer cracked it open now as if to test that declaration. Not that it would be anything else, but - as his eyes fell upon the pages, it soon became clear they were all handwritten.
And not, more interestingly, by Frida.
"And since it's not yours either, I suppose I'll just have to confiscate it," Kristoffer told her, with a self-satisfied tone and a smug expression, as if he had every right to do so - as if he hadn't already taken it, Frida presumed guilty before she had been proven it.
But oh, it always was fun to turn her words back against her, whatever they were. Kristoffer did so again, with a merry expression, making a motion to shoo her off back to the rest of her books. "Go study for your OWLs, Frida."
Just a book, she said, and Kristoffer cracked it open now as if to test that declaration. Not that it would be anything else, but - as his eyes fell upon the pages, it soon became clear they were all handwritten.
And not, more interestingly, by Frida.
"And since it's not yours either, I suppose I'll just have to confiscate it," Kristoffer told her, with a self-satisfied tone and a smug expression, as if he had every right to do so - as if he hadn't already taken it, Frida presumed guilty before she had been proven it.
But oh, it always was fun to turn her words back against her, whatever they were. Kristoffer did so again, with a merry expression, making a motion to shoo her off back to the rest of her books. "Go study for your OWLs, Frida."
