Christine, who had quietly slipped on the back of the bus, tumbled out of the door. Christine had dressed as warmly and sensibly as she knew how, and thus had donned almost all the petticoats she owned, under her favorite white dress, a cloak, her trademark red scarf, and a pair of surprisingly comfortable heeled boots. She also had decided to bring her muff along, which she had begun to think was a very bad idea. It kept her hands warm, yes, but she was having considerable difficulty getting her hands out so she could stand.
Eventually, she managed to get up. She blushed furiously and shook the snow out of her skirts, before quickly repinning her hair. "Oh dear, I'm dreadfully sorry about that," she murmured, to no one in particular. Christine managed, after several minutes of awkward blushing, to look up and regain some of her composure. "Which way, Monsieur Slartibartfast?"
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2006-10-04 01:54 am (UTC)Eventually, she managed to get up. She blushed furiously and shook the snow out of her skirts, before quickly repinning her hair. "Oh dear, I'm dreadfully sorry about that," she murmured, to no one in particular. Christine managed, after several minutes of awkward blushing, to look up and regain some of her composure. "Which way, Monsieur Slartibartfast?"