"Ah. Lady Marianne? Where are you–"
'A minute, woman!' — Lifting my index finger to the Princess, I told her as I walked somewhat fast to catch up with the hard-faced Male Lead.
Being popular is no joke.
For a moment, as I saw he had quite a few steps ahead into the corridor, I thought of throwing the post-it notes to his head since I knew I wasn't going to catch up with him considering my snail's pace.
I was reaaaally inclined since my brain was working fast unlike my feet.
Thinking of letting those words for him unread would later bother me.
It's like when someone did a little nice thing and one gets all stupid and the thanks don't come out as they should. So then, when they leave, one is all like "ugh, next time I should just choke to make it more awkward" or "you only had one job! to say 'thanks'! What's with 'thuh–ah ok'??". And then, face-slap oneself 'cause of course such social incapacity is annoyingly unsettling.
