Evan Lee Gildred
Eva’s hands slowly pulled the tray back towards him, his offer having been kindly rejected. He resigned himself to the fact that he would just have to throw it away. What a waste. Looking down at the tray, he decided he really didn’t want another bite and thought it better to take his chances that the lunch meal would be better. Not likely, but it was a wishful thought for his growling stomach. Rubbing his flat, svelte tummy, he adjusted his uniform in the process. A little bit of his tidiness obsession kicking in as he pulled it down and made sure it was situated properly.
Looking back up towards Gavin, his eyes spied something that he glossed over on his first cursory examination. There was a black, fingerless glove on his lefthand. A most curious garment that adorned his outfit. What possible purpose did it serve? Was it there merely for aesthetics, or did it have other uses? The only other reasons he could think of wearing such a glove, were bowling or billiards. Maybe it was presumptuous on his part, but Gavin didn’t seem much like a bowler. Without realizing it, he caught himself staring at the glove, his look intense and purposeful. It wasn’t until Gavin next spoke that he broke his attention, blushing slightly at the embarrassment of potentially being caught staring. Had he noticed?
Where was he from? Gavin had asked. It was a most curious question, especially when just making acquaintance at a school. Normally it would be something like: What class are you in? What are your electives? Etc... At least, that’s how he thought these type of things should go. But, where are you from? It wasn’t too personal for his tastes, but he had never really divulged much of himself to anybody before. Truth be told, nobody ever cared enough. The only conversations people would have with him would be teachers and they already knew where he was from.
“N-no, I d-don’t mind at all,” he answered meekly, his eyes meeting Gavin’s briefly. “I’m from the human realm. My father met my mom in a little town towards the south of France. She’s actually a human, so I grew up there for the most p-part...” He finished and let his words linger in the air between them. “M-maybe that’s why I’m not a huge fan of the food here,” he said kindly, with a bit of awkward levity. “I’m used to making and eating french food. People did always say it was the best.” Laughing nervously, not really sure how his comment would go over, he pulled out his mobile from his bag and checked the time. It was getting close to when classes were sure to begin. Never wanting to be late, he stood up and smoothed his skirt again, the fringe of it reaching just past mid-thigh.
“Uhm, I don’t know if we’re in the same class,” he said, picking up his tray. “I’m in 3C. It looks like it’s almost time to start. If you’re going the same way, you want to walk together?” His vision returned back to the mysterious glove, his curiosity getting the best of him. Even while dealing with his nerves, maybe he could ascertain the mystery behind it, if there even was one.