He joined Royce behind the newly-furnished counter that morning, anxious and fidgety. The boy observed him, putting down the book he was reading. It didn't matter anyway as it was about Sirens and Snakes: Slithering through Water and Land, in which he was fairly sure that sirens do not slither.
There weren't as many people coming to rent rooms than people leaving for somewhere else, so they could say that the inn was empty and quiet for the whole morning. It was already half past lunch when Royce left, probably annoyed that West kept on tapping on his abandoned book, a rhythm being made and then broken.
It became a cycle.
A tap-tap-tap. A hopeful gaze, before becoming aware of his own state. He would shake his head, trying to think of something other than her. And then, he'd resort to another set of tapping.
