𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟒 | 𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐘𝐎𝐑𝐊

egon spengler was not one to waste time. anything he did, he could be sure he’d rather be in his lab, investigating or just tinkering. although, as he watched you wander excitedly around the metropolitan museum of art, he begun to think he may have found an exception.

he follows behind you, keeping his steps in time with yours, as not to step on your heels. he fixes the cuffs of his fancy date shirt as he watches the skirt of your dress swish around your legs as you walk. distracted by how lovely he finds the dress, and especially you in it, he nearly runs into you as you stop to admire a painting in particular. his head snaps up as he hears your voice.

“pardon, my love?”