dear_mun | (no subject)

( britta's eyes narrow behind her specs, studying as an unamused look tugs at her features. her mouth smoothes to a frown and, when she does finally speak, her voice is laden heavily with the kind of professionalism and false sympathy only therapists and tax agents can give. ) I don't know if this means something or whether or not it says something about me or you, but — isn't it kind of weird that you pick me back up during the sport event where buff guys with thighs that can crush watermelons wear shorts and kick a ball around for ninety minutes?

( sighing, her features relax in thought. ) It does mean something. I'll think of it.