Combeferre’s new year’s day plans, carefully constructed over the last few weeks, had fallen to pieces as the snow piled up outside. These first few days of the new year had brought not the romance and hope he had expected - that both he and Sybil had expected, if not in entirely the same way - but instead makeshift meals by a harried but helpful staff, and trapped friends piling into their rooms, and worry over how long they would be trapped. In fact, Henri and Sybil had found barely a few minutes alone, hardly enough time for a proposal. Or the right circumstances for one.
Most of the trapped guests and staff are in the ballroom, and Combeferre, too, takes the opportunity to slip away, not realizing in the general commotion of so many people in so small a place that Sybil has done the same. He could do with a nap, perhaps a shower, while the rooms that were meant to be theirs alone are blessedly unoccupied.
But when he returns the key and nudges open the door, he is startled by what greets him. There is Sybil, standing near their pile of luggage, and in her hand sits a small and terribly familiar box.
He swallows, and carefully shuts the door behind him.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2015-01-11 09:22 pm (UTC)Most of the trapped guests and staff are in the ballroom, and Combeferre, too, takes the opportunity to slip away, not realizing in the general commotion of so many people in so small a place that Sybil has done the same. He could do with a nap, perhaps a shower, while the rooms that were meant to be theirs alone are blessedly unoccupied.
But when he returns the key and nudges open the door, he is startled by what greets him. There is Sybil, standing near their pile of luggage, and in her hand sits a small and terribly familiar box.
He swallows, and carefully shuts the door behind him.