PLATFORMS ↛ D.A

Articles and Cigarettes

Waterloo Station | 11:08am

Amelia was less than impressed by the silent walk. She did learn a lot about London from it though, people are rude and won't move for you, children stare more than usual. However most importantly, that everyone in one way or another appeared to be an egotistical bastard with nothing special to say (Damon).

She'd tried a few small talk conversations with strangers during the great pilgrimage back to the station and was ignored every time aside from an older woman who mumbled about beautiful modern couples. Whatever that meant. That didn't mean she wouldn't entertain it though. Thus, the golden opportunity to annoy Damon was of course taken full throttle. Amelia holding his bicep, pulling him closer and smiling a warm smile at the woman. He wasn't impressed to say the least.

And by the time they'd reached the station, they were both soaked. Fully. Damons white shirt now exposing his skinny torso and Amelias heavy knit jumper a soggy mess. The rain really was a devastation among British society and so was Damon. He found slight joy in demonstrating the utter gentleman he was, kicking his worn yet heavy looking boots in puddles and soaking Amelia while snagging the jacket back from her every time she had tried to gain cover from it.

She felt bad for his mother.

They plodded into the busy departure area, surrounded by many other soaked people who complained to each-other about the weather.

"I'm not sitting in dead-arse silence or listening to your shite accent mash on about how shit your life is for another hour n' a bit." She mocked his accent, attempting to kick his ankle from underneath him, earning a scorn and a slight roll of the eyes.

"Well then piss off. Nothing is stopping you."
Damon punctuated by shaking his hand away in a suggested direction. Coming to a halt and eyeing up the board of delayed times with a deep sigh.

"That'd be too easy wouldn't it, I'd like to know why you 'avent left either then." He ignored her.

Damon appeared to have entered a dad mode.

He stood with his hands on his hips, eyeing board times and checking his watch every other second. He even took out his phone and worked out if it would be faster getting a taxi to his desired destination, yet winced at the cost.

Amelia stood idly by his side, her lip turned up with a look of confusion as to what was taking him so long and why he looked so weird with his hair wet.

"You still look-"

"Shut up." He cut her off, holding a finger to her lip as he focused on something possibly in his head rather than in-front of him.

Amelia pulled his hand from her face, knitting her brows together and stepping back. "Eh? Don't touch me with your disgusting hands. Fuck knows where they've been."

He shook his head, patting down his pockets in search of something and Amelia nonchalantly stared at him, her look followed by a snide laugh when his jaw had tightened and he began to walk back the direction they'd just came from.

She followed closely, once again trying to trip him up from behind to which he grabbed her arm and pulled her to his side instead of behind him. "Don't touch me, David or whatever your name was." She pushed away from him.

"Damon." He corrected and she shrugged, digging into her bag to find a relieving carton
of cigarettes.

He came to an abrupt stop right on what felt like the fucking busiest stairway in London, receiving many sighs and profanities. "You have cigarettes?" Damon asked, his eyes connecting with hers in urgency.