He didn't.
Seph waited, scuffling around some papers, taking a sentence from here, another from there, in a sporadic fasion that helped him focus on what he was doing.
At some point, there was crashing around in the hall; Seph looked up, and then stood up, pacing to the door. He waited a bit — thump, thump — and then there was a sound of the door opening, and a crash, and laughter.
Blinking, Seph opened his door. The hallway was empty, but the tassel was swaying back and forth heavily, knocking against the doorframe.
He waited, listening. Should he see if Alban still wanted to meet? There were no more sounds emitting from beyond the door. Bemused, Seph stepped back behind his curtain, coughing briefly before pressing the door into place and then turning to a mirror mounted to the right of the door. He tapped it with the tip of his index finger; it flickered, ghosting out rounded triangles that skittered and then reformed, changing color like cuttle in shades of desaturated brown.
It showed an image of an empty hallway, as seen from about the height of Seph's chest. Seph watched it; then his eyes narrowed, and he pressed his smallest finger against his mouth.
Unwind, he thought, concentrating, and he licked the pad of his finger and then smeared the saliva across the lower left curve of the mirror. At his contact the browns turned dark, almost black. Seph blew across the mirror, drying it, and to his surprise the colors grew a little more vibrant — richer browns, and even a tinge of green.
In the hallway in the mirror, the door opened and two figures stepped out, knees bending and heels meeting the ground before toes, shoving into the corridor backwards. The image was still fuzzy, but the unwinding was slow enough that Seph could tell that one of the figures leaving (or rather, previously about to enter) the room was Alban, and the other a passerine.
They were clutching each other and crashing into walls, once, twice, before finally launching themselves spine-first out of the mirror's view. In the mirror they grinned with huge, silent laughter.
At some point, there was crashing around in the hall; Seph looked up, and then stood up, pacing to the door. He waited a bit — thump, thump — and then there was a sound of the door opening, and a crash, and laughter.
Blinking, Seph opened his door. The hallway was empty, but the tassel was swaying back and forth heavily, knocking against the doorframe.
He waited, listening. Should he see if Alban still wanted to meet? There were no more sounds emitting from beyond the door. Bemused, Seph stepped back behind his curtain, coughing briefly before pressing the door into place and then turning to a mirror mounted to the right of the door. He tapped it with the tip of his index finger; it flickered, ghosting out rounded triangles that skittered and then reformed, changing color like cuttle in shades of desaturated brown.
It showed an image of an empty hallway, as seen from about the height of Seph's chest. Seph watched it; then his eyes narrowed, and he pressed his smallest finger against his mouth.
Unwind, he thought, concentrating, and he licked the pad of his finger and then smeared the saliva across the lower left curve of the mirror. At his contact the browns turned dark, almost black. Seph blew across the mirror, drying it, and to his surprise the colors grew a little more vibrant — richer browns, and even a tinge of green.
In the hallway in the mirror, the door opened and two figures stepped out, knees bending and heels meeting the ground before toes, shoving into the corridor backwards. The image was still fuzzy, but the unwinding was slow enough that Seph could tell that one of the figures leaving (or rather, previously about to enter) the room was Alban, and the other a passerine.
They were clutching each other and crashing into walls, once, twice, before finally launching themselves spine-first out of the mirror's view. In the mirror they grinned with huge, silent laughter.
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