ELLIOT THOMAS HAS NOT been in london long. it's easy to tell in how wide his eyes go at every element of it. when we board the bus, he avidly analyses the crowd of tough-skinned brits. i've never seen a pair of eyes so bright on bus zooming toward the conglomerate city which is london. not even i was that enthralled as i was met with the rise of the skyline, bags ready to throw into my first apartment as an eighteen-year-old.

of course, i wasn't a first-timer for a good reason. he's here for uni; i came here because of dead guardians in ireland.

"do you even know what we're gon' to be doing?" i tease. he acts as if he's never set sights on the london eye, never set foot on trafalgar. i suppose he hasn't yet, but there's a certain amount of innocence in his acts that alters his height from that of an adult to that of a toddler.

"um... you all like tea, right?" he laughs a bit, and i can feel his nervousness dripping off it.

"to an extent. perhaps i should lead the way, eh?"

with a wan smile, he says, "so soon as we're off, our destination is in your hands."

the bus races along, and we arrive at our stop rather quickly. his smile soars among the stars, even though they still lie hidden beyond the daylight. people rush by on the pavement, minding their own while also bustling about and past us.

"get out of the way, will ya!" shouts a man in my ear. his frame breaks past elliot and i, creates a space between us and knocks elliot to the ground, nearly into the street.

i spin around after where the man's gone, wanting to shout but knowing it isn't worth it. when i've got elliot back to his feet, he gives me that tilt-of-the-head look.

"i could've sworn you were going to rip that man's head off."

"on the streets is not the place to do it." as soon as i say it, his cheeks seem to go a bit rosy.

"i suppose not."

we return to our quick-paced walking, listen to the wind for a while as i wonder where in westminster we could go. trafalgar seems a good choice, but it's still chilly out here.

"you from here?" he asks.

"hell, no." i brush a stray lock of hair from my eyes.

"uh, then, where?"

"ireland, my sir." i stand a bit taller, mask the muddled parts of irish-british in my voice to get only the irish girl's tone out of me. "how'd you not know? though' i'twas obvious."

he smiles like a boy, with little abashment and more energy than a uni student should have after first semester. "why'd you come here?"

"family issues." his expression reads, 'oh crap, what have i done?' "honestly, i probably should have stayed there."

"how come?"

"our gin is better!" i exclaim, even though it's a lie. i receive only a blank face. "you haven't had alcohol?"

he only shakes his head.

"well, i know where we're going now!"

"but it's the middle of the day!" his tone does not match his words. his words suggest irritation, while his tone was hilarious and exasperated.

"fine, but soon enough, i will bring you out to get drunk." he rolls his eyes, but when his brown irises direct back to me, i fling my arm out, pointing down the street. "now, to trafalgar!"

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hello, awesome people!
thank you for reading
yet another chapter of
'hearing anna'.
if you've liked this,
don't refrain from
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dftba!

~wren

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