「 The Professor & I 」VOLUME II

(173) Vodka, Neat

Lynn's POV

A cold and miserable night it was, I would have much preferred curling up under my duvets being drenched in half of its warmth, not to mention my body that had been moderately fatigued by that partially unforeseen breakdown was screaming for the bed, but Jean was particularly resolute we made this trip that had been deliberately put off since our first day in Laughlin.

Once dinner was finished, Jean swiftly switched off the television set and chased me back to my room, eagerly urging for me to get dressed for our outing. Surely, my enthusiasm contrasted hers and I took all the time I wanted to sieve out an attire for the excursion I had regretted agreeing to attend.

"Hurry up, Lynn! Unless you want to go out in the snow!" Jean shouted excitedly as she furiously pounded her palm on my door.

Sighing and having no way to escape the ordeal, I unwillingly selected several fresh pieces for the night, given that I had sent most of the week's load into the washing machine just this afternoon.

A set of cashmere thermals was definitely necessitated by the subzero temperatures but given that we were probably spending the rest of our time indoors rather than on the streets, I kept them thin and simply pulled on my washed denims over the black elastic material that I had sluggishly wrestled onto my lifeless legs. Further safeguarding my unfeeling limbs from the merciless winter with a pair of striped leg warmers in a muted palette, I carefully lugged on a pair of sleek leather boots in a dark chocolate shade that ended just below my knee, steadily securing the zipper on the inner sides of my calves.

Randomly tugging off a black collared blouse from its hanger, I buttoned the sturdy blend of polyester and cotton over my scoop neck undershirt, tediously getting the cuffs fastened as well, and headed towards the nightstand. Although the pair of wheelchair gloves had already been fitted onto my palms since the start of the day, being a basic accessory that followed me tirelessly during my waking hours, I further protected my hands with yet another subtle surprise gifted by Charles.

Given that I had not personally unpacked, I discovered in one of my drawers a couple of days late the Burberry box containing a short enclosed note that merely stated my name but clearly penned in Charles' neat cursive handwriting and a pair of normal gloves.

With the interior lined with fleece and the exterior made of leather, they were warm yet not compromising the agility of my fingers. Besides providing the grip essential for propelling my chair, its aesthetic appeal was unquestionably not neglected with the brand's classic plaid design exposed on a tweed layer sewn on the back of the hands.

Slinging the long and skinny strap across my body, I rested my purse on my lap and hauled a plain beige shawl from behind my door and messily wrapped it around my neck.

"But it's freezing," I whined as I finally rolled out of from my room and Jean accurately chucked my wool parka into my grasp.

"It's just ten minutes away. Don't be a brat, Lynn," Jean chastised jokingly as she whipped off her own jacket from the hooks by the front door and slipped herself into her the reflective leather sleeves, zipping it up until it met with the monochromic houndstooth muffler surrounding her neck.

Almost as reluctantly as putting on the rest of my winter's outfit, I slowly guided my arms through my last layer, hoping the purposefully dragged procedure would provide sufficient time to deter or change Jean's mind but my continuous efforts were fruitless. She actively clasped the tabs on the front of my thick navy coat, anchoring it down and tucked the loose ends of my scarf under it, as I arranged my hair and fringe before cloaking my head with a knitted crimson beret.