[ alisha's in the seat beside elsa. she remains quiet with her elbow resting against the arm of her chair and her curled fist against the side of her temple. this place is giving her a headache — it's nothing like home, with its forests and woods and free, delicious foods. she can't quite figure out where up is — and the station, the one thing that resembles something like home, isn't helping, either. if this place had a community centre, she'd feel right at home. ]
[ from the corner of her eye, she watches as the woman beside her is offered a drink. and doesn't so much as decline with her words, but with the confusion on her face. ] It probably tastes like shit. [ she's british; she thinks anything that isn't a cup of tea — or a good alcoholic drink — tastes like shit. ] Coffee always does.
no subject
[ from the corner of her eye, she watches as the woman beside her is offered a drink. and doesn't so much as decline with her words, but with the confusion on her face. ] It probably tastes like shit. [ she's british; she thinks anything that isn't a cup of tea — or a good alcoholic drink — tastes like shit. ] Coffee always does.