Communication (Thursday, P5)

[silent-robert.livejournal.com]

When the students arrived in the classroom they'd find it set up like a dining room with one long table and a variety of food set out. Bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet behind the chair at the head of the table, Bob gestured for everyone to take a seat, then held a finger up to his lips in an exaggerated 'Shhh!' motion.

Welcome to the quietest dinner party ever.

Who knows the sign language for 'pass the gravy, please?'

[[Sorry for the late. Anthropology is kicking my academic butt these days.]]

Comments

Re: Don't converse

[scary-jeff.livejournal.com]

Jeff shot up like a nervous light, staring Anemone straight in the face and tensing up so badly he couldn't even move a muscle.

He made some unidentifiable noises, but remained otherwise silent.

Re: Don't converse

[death-of-hope.livejournal.com]

Sadly, she's used to that reaction, so it doesn't phase her at all.

She gave a little smile, taking care not do anything that could be misconstrued as threatening, and tilted her head as she slowly pointed at the apples. Please?

Re: Don't converse

[scary-jeff.livejournal.com]

Jeff just stared at her busom.

While freezing.

"Breasts," he said.

Re: Don't converse

[death-of-hope.livejournal.com]

Why yes, she does have breasts. How nice of him to notice. But she doesn't want the chicken breasts, she wants the apples.

Rolling her eyes, she looked around for one of the girls to pass her the apples. Boys. Honestly.