He's doing this. He's actually doing it. He can't believe he's doing it, but he is.
Avery glances down at the box in his hands, grits his teeth, and turns around, fully intending to call this whole, useless nonsense off and eat the contents himself, but something stops him halfway down the hall.
He can only groan and silently curse that remaining bit of weakness within him as he turns around and storms back to the infirmary.
In a single, chaotic moment, he wrenches the door open, chucks the slightly battered box of cherry cordials at Ekkehardt's head, and promptly turns around and leaves, sinking into the shadows.
February 14th?!?!?!
Avery glances down at the box in his hands, grits his teeth, and turns around, fully intending to call this whole, useless nonsense off and eat the contents himself, but something stops him halfway down the hall.
He can only groan and silently curse that remaining bit of weakness within him as he turns around and storms back to the infirmary.
In a single, chaotic moment, he wrenches the door open, chucks the slightly battered box of cherry cordials at Ekkehardt's head, and promptly turns around and leaves, sinking into the shadows.