Uriah doesn't fight after that. The joke's been played out, so he lets the book drop to the floor next to his other finds with a soft thunk. His attention is squarely on Tybalt. And his mouth. And his hands. Just the whole situation they're in right now.
He doesn't notice when the shelves around them start to shift.
Mary Grace really did come here for a sports almanac. Maybe something trashy to read aloud with Felicity while drinking wine in their dorm, but just if it falls at her feet. She's specifically headed to the reference section for a sports almanac.
And not because she hears voices. Oh, sultry voices. In the library.
Mary Grace smirks. The voices are a little muffled for now, but if she just moves a little closer— Oh, will you look at that, the shelves are moving, and something trashy does fall at her feet.
The smirk turns into a smile. "Well," she gasps out in her best approximation of pearl-clutching. "I never."
Tybalt hadn't heard the shelves shifting, either. It takes a moment to register the strange voice, and another to peek an eye open. Only then does he really bother to disentangle his fingers from Uriah's hair. His first impulse is to be as casual as possible. He leans back, albeit reluctantly, and grins like he's never heard of the concept of shame. And maybe he hasn't. "Oh, hi." He greets their intruder just as pleasantly as he would in any hall, like maybe she'd forget she saw anything unusual in the first place.
Trash Boys Get Caught
He doesn't notice when the shelves around them start to shift.
Trash Boys Get Caught
And not because she hears voices. Oh, sultry voices. In the library.
Mary Grace smirks. The voices are a little muffled for now, but if she just moves a little closer— Oh, will you look at that, the shelves are moving, and something trashy does fall at her feet.
The smirk turns into a smile. "Well," she gasps out in her best approximation of pearl-clutching. "I never."
Trash Boys Get Caught