"Do you seriously intend to spend the rest of your life with Cordelia? You're not her dog, snap out of it," Atticus hissed irritably at Jonah as his best friend stared hotly at every single candidate that entered the grand ballroom with their families. The room was rife with chatter and the mood celebratory, as everyone rejoiced in making it through to the next round of the contest.
The only person who seemed to radiate unhappiness was Jonah, who looked like someone had kicked his puppy and left it out to drench in a rainstorm.
"Shush, I'm busy working," Jonah muttered instinctively, and Atticus knew Jonah didn't even register his words. "Go and bother Daphne or something."
Atticus frowned. "I can't, she's sticking to our target like glue."
