[ When she ducks away, Choso cannot help but think of the cat colonies back in Tokyo, of the way the calico with the bent ear would slip away with a fluid grace just like Marcille's here now. Thinks of everything the others told to him, so when she whips away and affixes her eyes elsewhere, he bows his head in kind drops his gaze to her hands as he lets his own big paw drop to receive the offerings instead. He holds the pastry like it's made of paper, pinched between two awkward fingers while his other hand envelopes the bottle in time to promptly forget about it, balanced on his knee like a funny little prize. ]
Yhou look red ash a beet. Maybe you need a chhhair, too.
[ It doesn't help that he stares, that even if he's trying not to needle her with the laser focus of his attention, his eyes still dart and flit and look too much, seek too much at any one time. Fascinated with the shade of red that's painting her cheeks, Choso ends up staring right at her again despite himself. ]
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Yhou look red ash a beet. Maybe you need a chhhair, too.
[ It doesn't help that he stares, that even if he's trying not to needle her with the laser focus of his attention, his eyes still dart and flit and look too much, seek too much at any one time. Fascinated with the shade of red that's painting her cheeks, Choso ends up staring right at her again despite himself. ]
Thank yhou. Join me?