(too long for subject; Witches' Horses, Martin, Sinclair, Grammont)
Grammont's stall was completely silent. Ominously silent, he revised, when he got inside and found Sinclair glaring at one of the walls in a meaningful sort of way. Hammers and wrenches meaningful, and Martin wasn't completely prepared to say that the wall wasn't glaring back. There was an interesting sort of breathless quality to the air mix, the kind you got right before electricity arced through air and made lightning.
"Should I leave you two alone?" he inquired after neither of them acknowledged his presence.
'the feeling of walking into the middle of an argument, even tho nobody's actually saying anything'
Grammont's stall was completely silent. Ominously silent, he revised, when he got inside and found Sinclair glaring at one of the walls in a meaningful sort of way. Hammers and wrenches meaningful, and Martin wasn't completely prepared to say that the wall wasn't glaring back. There was an interesting sort of breathless quality to the air mix, the kind you got right before electricity arced through air and made lightning.
"Should I leave you two alone?" he inquired after neither of them acknowledged his presence.