[ She's trying real hard— real hard— to get a good read on his emotions through the look he's wearing. It's too mixed for her to pick him apart. Her one eye darts over to where he's pointed. Elena hesitates on looking back up at him, but when she does... ]
It appeared in my mailbox earlier...
[ Her words are slow, cautious. A knit begins to form between her brows. What is his deal...? Does he know what it is? He has to, if he looks like he is now, like he's staring a ghost in the face. ]
Do...you know what it is...?
[ Of course he does— the beginning of the journal is all about Francis Drake. But it's information the both of them already know. With the amount of times she's listened to him talk about the man in the past, Elena could very well write her own damn journal.
Little warning bells are going off in the back of her head.
no subject
It appeared in my mailbox earlier...
[ Her words are slow, cautious. A knit begins to form between her brows. What is his deal...? Does he know what it is? He has to, if he looks like he is now, like he's staring a ghost in the face. ]
Do...you know what it is...?
[ Of course he does— the beginning of the journal is all about Francis Drake. But it's information the both of them already know. With the amount of times she's listened to him talk about the man in the past, Elena could very well write her own damn journal.
Little warning bells are going off in the back of her head.
Drake. ]