She leans forward
- she is leaning forward all the time - elbows on the table - rests there
a minute and then rolls back into the back of the chair; it's a mannerism.
She leans forward and rests her elbows on the table. Her expression suggests
her to be thinking intensely about what has just been said. She is full
of energy. Her forearms click into vertical and the head drops into place
in the concave brackets of her hands. Her mouse brown hair falls forward
over the fingers; strands separate and one eye shines through. "I
don't agree," she says, looking away from all the lookers, jumps
her elbow tips a little and bangs her elbows down with a jolt and falls
back into the back of her chair with an elegant clumsiness. Despite its
speed, the movement was almost languid. She smiles demurely at one and
at all, phased, not letting the smile rest. It returns to her mouth like
a sprung steel rule rolling in. She licks her upper lip with a flick of
her tongue and bangs her teeth together, just, making a click, echoing.
She repeats that and repeats it.
"Why don't you agree?" asks the
tutor, masking the tone of exasperation one expects. She droops her arms
over the sides of the chair and lets them swing, apparently unguided,
like shoots of ivy or bramble. In a slightly world-weary voice she gives
her reasons, flickering like an animated cartoon half-finished.