write short paragraphs, depictions, environments; build off of other's writing, or browse and critique.
The shower didn't let up, and neither did Sven's mood. Val sat resoundingly like a sponge, and listened to Sven loll on about his falling out with the other linkers. Her dark eyes stayed on her cup, trying to mentally step back out of focus. Her hands gripped the tin loosely, as if her hands were a lone bloom subjected to the fifth night of rain.
A waitress came around and took the empty cup, and her hands were left on the table, tired and empty. One managed to slide off the side, and it took the opportunity to check its adjacent pocket. The hand brushed up against something it had not felt before.
Mildly surprised, Val took a look, and in her hand was a docket, the first she had ever seen in person, let alone touched.
Now awake, she quickly took a look around. The resital's common room was bustling, and she couldn't identify anyone who she would remotely consider to own such an object. Even if the anonymous tipper hadn't left, he or she could easily blend in to the crowd, unseen and unheard. What was more likely was that they already had left.
Val unconsciously took the object into her pocket. Her instinct told her that she wouldn't be able to leave it there and stay out of trouble, but her mind shouted at her to take her long-overdue leave from Sven. Then again, she could leave Sven with it, but she knew enough about him to know that he could convince any Officer that he didn't take it. And since he knew she was there, she would eventually be found.
Someone was searching for her, and she decided she didn't want to know who.
"Th-hey never do anything but that. Saying slander... you running?"
"Just something I forgot."
"I'll lag up with you tomorrow then... heh, lag. lagguh." Sven dropped into a mild stupor.
