It would seem there was no winning with this woman! Trying to keep his frustration at bay, Olixander laced his fingers decidedly behind his back. (He wasn’t going to strike her, and it bothered him that she was so flinchy.) He wondered, idly, if she was just determined to be angry at him and it was just going to be this way. From his experience, when women got into those moods you could bring them the moon and it wouldn’t do much good. Besides, he’d apologized twice already! Wasn’t that enough?
“Well I’m glad we’re past this,” he deadpanned, sarcastically. Then, reining in the obnoxious tone he could hear echoing back to him like he was outside of himself, Olixander bowed his head again and cleared his throat. He meant to say something elegant, something gentlemanly. Something along the lines of ‘my sincerest apologies travel with you now and forever’ but instead he became quite aware of the throbbing pain in his temples. It would seem even the copious amount of alcohol he’d drunk tonight had its limit and it was starting to taper off into the nauseating headache that usually accompanied such endeavors. Olixander hoped he wouldn’t throw up all over his angel’s shoes.
His face grew pale, the real threat of vomit clouding a usually too suave complexion. He stepped back towards the bench and took a seat, hoping to settle his stomach. It was amazing how quickly these things could escalate. From utter utopia, to solemn melancholy, to vomiting ones life up. It was a vicious pattern, one that Olixander was not at liberty to quit. Holding his head in his hand, he waved a shooing gesture at the woman and hoped she’d get the message. He didn’t have the tact to deal with humans at the moment. He could feel too many emotions stirring, waiting to bubble up and out. This was always the worst part!
“Well I’m glad we’re past this,” he deadpanned, sarcastically. Then, reining in the obnoxious tone he could hear echoing back to him like he was outside of himself, Olixander bowed his head again and cleared his throat. He meant to say something elegant, something gentlemanly. Something along the lines of ‘my sincerest apologies travel with you now and forever’ but instead he became quite aware of the throbbing pain in his temples. It would seem even the copious amount of alcohol he’d drunk tonight had its limit and it was starting to taper off into the nauseating headache that usually accompanied such endeavors. Olixander hoped he wouldn’t throw up all over his angel’s shoes.
His face grew pale, the real threat of vomit clouding a usually too suave complexion. He stepped back towards the bench and took a seat, hoping to settle his stomach. It was amazing how quickly these things could escalate. From utter utopia, to solemn melancholy, to vomiting ones life up. It was a vicious pattern, one that Olixander was not at liberty to quit. Holding his head in his hand, he waved a shooing gesture at the woman and hoped she’d get the message. He didn’t have the tact to deal with humans at the moment. He could feel too many emotions stirring, waiting to bubble up and out. This was always the worst part!