Morning Rituals
Who: Chase and Clarice
What: Buying breakfast. Again.
Where: Sweet Lady Jane
When: January 8th, 2012, mid morning
Why: Having a pet raptor with a donut addiction means you spend a lot of time in bakeries
Rating: Chase's mouth, so PG-13 at least
What Chase had to keep telling himself, was that the donuts were keeping Old Lace from eating the horses, which was a very, very good thing. Especially since now he was apparently learning to ride one.
'Fuck, I need a new ass, pretty sure my old one fell off.' He'd come to the conclusion very quickly that sitting on a horse was nothing like sitting in the 'Frog or the Stein Bus, as godawful uncomfortable as both seats were. He walked with a rather awkward gait as he entered the bakery, taking a deep, shivering breath as he did. The shoe situation had been rectified, and he was wearing a mix of some of Uther's more modern clothes: loose long sleeved shirts and heavy pants. It was still too damn cold.
The customer ahead of him finally finished their order, stepping aside to reveal the pretty lavender skinned girl he'd seen a million times already. Chase had decided the moment he saw her he liked her: she was pretty, with a sweet smile and gentle voice. Though she was monochrome by comparission, she almost reminded him of Karolina. He'd even played with the idea that she was part Madjesdanian.
"'Mornin'." Chase greeted her brightly, "ah, the usual I guess, half dozen plain kreullers, half dozen assorted donut holes and ah..." he scanned the drink menu, then decided against it, he didn't want coffee sloshing around in him if is day was going to consist of another spectacular day of falling out of the saddle as soon as Uther's horse went faster than tip-toeing. "That's it." Chase shifted away from the counter to let the next person go, but after that, a lull settled over the bakery. They were mostly alone apart from one of the other bakers putting cookies in clear cellophane baggies.
"So, I gotta ask, um, Clarice," For as many times as he'd seen her, he only bothered to look at her nametag last week. "Your skin, is it natural? Cause you look a bit like a friend of mine back home..." Maybe not the most tactful approach, but Chase never pretend tact was his strong point.
What: Buying breakfast. Again.
Where: Sweet Lady Jane
When: January 8th, 2012, mid morning
Why: Having a pet raptor with a donut addiction means you spend a lot of time in bakeries
Rating: Chase's mouth, so PG-13 at least
What Chase had to keep telling himself, was that the donuts were keeping Old Lace from eating the horses, which was a very, very good thing. Especially since now he was apparently learning to ride one.
'Fuck, I need a new ass, pretty sure my old one fell off.' He'd come to the conclusion very quickly that sitting on a horse was nothing like sitting in the 'Frog or the Stein Bus, as godawful uncomfortable as both seats were. He walked with a rather awkward gait as he entered the bakery, taking a deep, shivering breath as he did. The shoe situation had been rectified, and he was wearing a mix of some of Uther's more modern clothes: loose long sleeved shirts and heavy pants. It was still too damn cold.
The customer ahead of him finally finished their order, stepping aside to reveal the pretty lavender skinned girl he'd seen a million times already. Chase had decided the moment he saw her he liked her: she was pretty, with a sweet smile and gentle voice. Though she was monochrome by comparission, she almost reminded him of Karolina. He'd even played with the idea that she was part Madjesdanian.
"'Mornin'." Chase greeted her brightly, "ah, the usual I guess, half dozen plain kreullers, half dozen assorted donut holes and ah..." he scanned the drink menu, then decided against it, he didn't want coffee sloshing around in him if is day was going to consist of another spectacular day of falling out of the saddle as soon as Uther's horse went faster than tip-toeing. "That's it." Chase shifted away from the counter to let the next person go, but after that, a lull settled over the bakery. They were mostly alone apart from one of the other bakers putting cookies in clear cellophane baggies.
"So, I gotta ask, um, Clarice," For as many times as he'd seen her, he only bothered to look at her nametag last week. "Your skin, is it natural? Cause you look a bit like a friend of mine back home..." Maybe not the most tactful approach, but Chase never pretend tact was his strong point.