1/018: Dancing isn't science!

[wheatdos]

[Wheatley sort of lingers on the main staircase of the castle, sitting down on the bottom step and turning the small invitation over and over again in his fingers. He's reading the words, repeatedly, trying to recognize anything about it. Was it a prank? Some joke? Perhaps someone trying to be nice and simply not being informed of his current predicament. Either way, he was feeling just the slightest bit jilted, taking it quite personally.

Flipping open his journal, he hesitates... tapping it with his free hand a few times as he decided what should be said.]


Um, quick question! Little question... nothing too big. Who sent these little things out? These... uh, little invitations. Well... that's uh... that's a sort of mean joke, if-if it is a joke. You know... Why would you- I mean whats the use on sending someone a masquerade invitation...

[A rather depressed sigh comes out of him. It's heavy, and much sadder than the usual upbeat guy that everyone always knew.]

...If they-- if they have no one to dance with...?

[He loved dancing. He really did. He loved it more than most things being himan had to offer. Someone sending this was a real kick in the face.]

Comments

[wheatdos]

Oh-oh... Do you think so?
I didn't. I'd say it's the perfect opportunity to get to know someone, mate.

[bootsweremadeforcasting]

I suppose you are right. Did you have anyone specific in mind for this masquerade?

[wheatdos]

...W-well... no.
I... I sort of had one bird in mind but she isn't feeling well.

In all honestly, I-I think she's faking it so she doesn't have to go with me.

[bootsweremadeforcasting]

That's quite the assumption.

[wheatdos]

D-do you think so?

[bootsweremadeforcasting]

Well, I'd assume she's actually sick, unless you've done something recent to upset her greatly.