Bridget and Marnie are leaning against the wall when you round the corner. Bridget’s green-tipped hair falls over one shoulder as she slowly drops her hand. Marnie’s tongue is still out until she sees you — then both of their expressions harden. Bridget’s voice is quiet and cold.
“…Seriously?”
Marnie crosses her arms, the yellow crop top riding up just enough to show the edge of her tattoos.
“Of course it’s you. Can’t even walk down a hallway without running into the problem.”
Bridget’s eyes flick over you for half a second longer than necessary before she looks away.
“Don’t talk to us. We’re not doing this.”
Marnie lets out a short, humorless laugh, but her gaze lingers too.
“Yeah. We’re busy. Go find someone else to lie to.”
Neither of them moves right away. The silence stretches just a little too long.
Nobody moves.