“Shouldn’t we have heard back by now? It’s been hours.” I groaned.
“Nahh. It’ll be fine. Don’t worry.” Sim scratched his face and threw a ball of fluff at Flavia. “Catch.”
“Stop it.” The third-year caught the ball mid-air and catapulted it back. “You’re annoying me.”
He stuck out his tongue. “Your face is annoying me.”
“Your face is annoying me,” she mocked, repeating him with a childish voice I never expected from her. Maybe the wait was getting to her as well?
I diverted my attention from the bickering third-years and cast them up to the steel ceiling. Thick tubes of metallic foil ran along the beams, together with some coloured cables and thin lights. With thick concrete walls and steel grates on the floor, this looked exactly how I imagined an emergency apocalyptic bunker would l
