He seems restless, even once he's let inside. He's quiet, not in his usual, cocky way where he seems like he's just waiting for the opportunity to make a joke (the more sexual, the better) but a darker silence. Brooding and angry. He follows her upstairs, gritting his teeth to stop from spouting out his anger. He needs to contain it. He's just never been very good at being anything other than a reckless idiot and a hot head at times like these.
Inside her room, he paces in front of the door. He's too agitated to sit down or even stand still. He doesn't even spare her room a glance, or, like most teenage boys, try to stealthy look for the bed. Not right now. Right now, he's too volatile, too angry, to think of anything else but fighting.
"They attacked her. They attacked my mother." He starts off, stiffly, anger in each word he spits out.
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He seems restless, even once he's let inside. He's quiet, not in his usual, cocky way where he seems like he's just waiting for the opportunity to make a joke (the more sexual, the better) but a darker silence. Brooding and angry. He follows her upstairs, gritting his teeth to stop from spouting out his anger. He needs to contain it. He's just never been very good at being anything other than a reckless idiot and a hot head at times like these.
Inside her room, he paces in front of the door. He's too agitated to sit down or even stand still. He doesn't even spare her room a glance, or, like most teenage boys, try to stealthy look for the bed. Not right now. Right now, he's too volatile, too angry, to think of anything else but fighting.
"They attacked her. They attacked my mother." He starts off, stiffly, anger in each word he spits out.