one minute posts

Set your stopwatch to count down to one minute! Type as much as you can, but you must stop when the bell rings! (Well, I think you can finish the word you're on, but nothing more than that.) Yes? And we'll make a story!
Online stopwatch

Edit: Yes, I'm making these rules up as I go along. Modding is ALLOWED (gasp!) if you want to finish someone else's incomplete sentence.
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Deverel leaned against the wall and sipped at his punch as the ladies danced by. Ordinarily he loved a dance, but this one was one of the dullest he had ever attended. Not a pretty girl among the lot of 'em, unless you counted Mrs. Hastings who was, of course, now married to Captain Hastings.

Bolitho was never fond of dances, but he attended them to be polite. He saw Deverel standing a few paces away, which really did nothing to improve his mood. He continued to watch the dancers, hoping that Deverel was not going to notice him.

"Richard!" Deverel cried, being on a first name basis with everyone that evening. "What a splendid party, eh?" he asked as he elbowed his way past two old matrons watching him through their quizzing glasses. "Who do you have your eyes on? That pretty little blonde, eh? I might

--watch where I was walking, if I were you," Bolitho finished as Deverel nearly walked into a man passing by. He could not help wondering how much Deverel had already had to drink this evening.

One man who was watching where he was going, however, was Leat, who side-stepped Deveral easily. It was nice to be invited to a ball for a change, but this one was proving somewhat uncomfortable as he had the horrible feeling of being constantly watched.

"Hello," said a young woman sidling up next to Leat. She was slightly shy, but obviously interested in welcoming the strange lieutenant. "You must be... in the navy." And then she ran out of polite

conversation. Leat gave her a neutral smile back.

"Yes, I am." Secretly the young lieutenant gave her points for working out a navy blue coat may indicate a naval officer occupied it. For form's sake he bobbed his head in a small bow. "Lieutenant Leat, of His Majesty's Frigate, Terpsichore."

It was just his luck to be stuck acting as a servant at this shindig, Newbury thought grumpily, though of course he gave no sign of his displeasure as he made his rounds.

"Wine, sir, miss?" He asked, offering a laden tray to the Navy officer and the woman he was with.

"Don't I know you?" asked the young lady, smiling at the footman. Of course, it was Newbury, but Jenny was in disguise as a lady this evening, hoping to win the affections of a prestigious officer. And such things were easier when the wine was flowing and the music was danceable. Come to think of it, why was she talking to a footman?