₁.₀ SUPERCUT; gilbert blythe ✔

036.

"You don't have to do anything you don't want to," Gilbert leans in a little to whisper right into her ear. "I'm sure Anne would understand."

He's crouching so close beside her it's hard for Marianne to turn her head without bumping her nose into his. The thought only occurs to her now, the realisation revealed through a faint blush colouring her cheeks. Gilbert's eyes leave her own for a few seconds, the corners of his lips rising a little as he takes in her flustered state. It's a wonder he manages to notice, in a place as dimly lit as the hall... Though, perhaps it shouldn't come as a surprise, considering how much attention he seems to be directing towards the girl.

"I, um, I must admit I feel far from ecstatic about marching in front of all the adults while holding a potato," she whispers back. Casting a glance to the others, their friends busy with wires and vegetables, and lightbulbs, Marianne sends Anne an apologetic look. "But I made a commitment, so it's only fair I go along with it, no?"

"Hopping a freight wasn't enough for you?"

"Well, you know me. Always the troublemaker."

Her attempt at joking causes him to nod, his eyes rolling playfully. "Yes. I do know," he answers - his words so obviously untrue he chuckles right afterwards, letting out a sound Marianne has grown so fond of.

And, God, does that make him attractive.

Marianne is still not accustomed to fully acknowledging this though. Yet, after all that hand holding and talking, she does find herself slightly more comfortable with being true with herself (and herself only, for she would never say a single word about this to the boy) - but there's no denying she really does like Gilbert Blythe.

"Alright then." He reaches out to hand her the vegetable, biting his lip in order not to laugh at the sight of Marianne staring at the vegetable with a look of utter reluctance. "Come now, I think it rather suits you."

"What, the potato?"

There's that sound again. "No, not the potato. My, I can't believe you've said that."

Well, she can't do that either. She must have sounded ridiculous, asking such a stupid question.

"I meant you being so determined to help however you can," explains Gilbert. Marianne can tell he didn't intend to make her feel self conscious; it's just her foolish mind playing tricks on her. "It's sweet. I just can't help being worried you might forget all about your own comfort along the way, so I wanted to make sure."

"That's sweet, too."

"Yes, alright," Anne cuts in. "'Whatever our souls are made of' and all that, but could you two start paying attention?" Considering she's the one saying it makes it so much more ironic - Anne Shirley-Cuthbert scolding someone over a matter she's known by herself. "There's no more devoted lover of everything romance than I am, but I really need everyone to focus right now."

"Sorry," apologies Marianne. She would certainly prefer to avoid having been called out like that, but, for a reason she's yet to uncover, she's starting to think she could get used to losing herself in the presence of Gilbert Blythe. Quietly, she mutters, "The pot calling the kettle back".

With the corner of her eye, she sees Gilbert placing a hand over his mouth. She doesn't even need to take a closer look, she knows what kind of a smile is hidden behind it.

Alas, back to Anne. "Now, I believe it's the perfect time for us to begin. Please, mind both the wires and the lightbulbs, we don't want another accident occuring in such a crucial moment-"

"Why are you looking at me like that, Anne? Come on, how many times do you want me to apologize?"

"Just be careful, Moody," the redhead girl reminds him as they walk down the stairs.