Desmond was sitting next to Luna, choosing the seat completely by chance, and he stole a side glance at her when she sat down before facing forwards again, deciding to leave her alone. He found that the longer he looked away from her, the more he wanted to turn and stare at her. It was an odd feeling, one he'd never had to combat before, and so he did so by looking just about anywhere other than her, and he felt a heat climb up his neck, as he became embarrassed of himself. From far away it was nothing, but right up next to him the change would be painfully obvious. What the hell was he doing? Just look straight and stop thinking about it, you idiot. Yet the less he thought about it, the more he thought about it, which confused him to no end. He looked forward and his fingers danced on the table, tapping, and he fidgets and twitches. Did someone poison me? Am I dying? It seemed more things were going wrong with him and he could control none of those things.