Sinclair
There's a weird smell lingering in the air...burning? He opens his mouth to ask if anyone else can smell it, but suddenly realises that it's him. "Fucking hell!" he jumps out of his chair, knocking it over in the progress. His jaw and fists clench when Lukas makes him lame excuse about a fly, but doesn't say anything; he's not convinced that there had been any fly, but he doesn't have any evidence to the contrary.
He runs a hand though his long-ish hair, and most of it still seems to be intact. "Don't worry about it...I could do with a trim" he tries to make a joke out of it, but his voice is tight and irritated.
He and Lukas had been friends, once. The three of them - Clover, Lukas and he - used to hang out together quite happily; up until Sinclair had started noticing the looks that passed between the other two, the goofy, lovelorn smile permenantly fixed to Lukas's face, the way he'd touch her arm or brush against her at every oppurtunity. He'd brushed it off as an over-active imagination, or paranoia, but when Lukas had told him - all anxious and overly-excited - that he planned on asking Clover out, he hadn't been able to pretend any longer. He'd tried to talk Lukas out of the idea ("But...I always thought you and Nina made a cute couple! You two should get back together!", "How about Ava? She's hot! I think Ava likes you, man!", "Y'know, Clover snores. Loudly. Really."), but to no avail. The last year had been the worst of his life.
Sinclair had always thought that he and Clover would end up together; that he had all the time in the world to gather up enough courage to tell Clover how he feels...that everything else fades to grey in comparison to her, that his heart beat is erratic and breathing seems difficult when he thinks about her, that he feels sick with a mixture of nerves, excitement, and hope whenever she touches him. The truth is, he'd marry Clover today, if she asked him. But, whatever...
He hadn't even noticed Ava's arrival, and his head snaps up when she speaks. He rolls his eyes - he seems to be doing that a lot, this morning - when the blonde mentions the anniversary, "Yeah, we're all just waiting for our wedding invites with baited breath, aren't we Ava?" he drawls, "What colour were you thinking for my bridesmaid's dress, Clo?"
He leans back in his chair, putting his feet up on the back of Clover's chair lazily, resting his head in his palm and looking past the others to stare blankly forward; he's sure that he'll be in a foul mood for the rest of the day.