Alaric
I checked the forecast for what had to be the sixth time in under an hour, and Rook's patience finally cracked entirely, sharp with something between exasperation and genuine concern.
*[You're going to wear a hole in that phone screen,]* he said. *[Checking it again isn't going to change what the clouds actually decide to do tomorrow.]*
*I know. I can't seem to stop myself.*
*[You should be asleep. Tomorrow's a big day regardless of weather, and you've been pacing this room for considerably longer than any sane person should before an important morning.]*
I set the phone down, understanding he was right, though the anxious energy coursing through me showed no signs of actually settling despite the late hour. Marlowe had gone to bed hours ago, exhausted from the rehearsal dinner
