(no subject)
[ooc: Post is very much open for tagging, but I won't be around until later this afternoon.]
It's fairly early when Kick and Nero come trotting down the stairs, early enough for Nick to still be sound asleep, buried under a mound of blankets that Kick insisted she needed. It was cold last night.
The pair moves to Bar, where they're both provided with breakfast: waffles for Kick (naturally), and some meat of indiscernible origin for Nero.
Nero, though, seems to be distracted. When Kick sets the plate down on the floor, he doesn't come running.
"Nero?" she calls, blinking. "Where'd you go?"
After a few moments of searching, she spots him sniffing at the floor near the door.
"Come on, you," she says, still some distance away. "Y'gotta eat."
The wolf seems to be ignoring her. Sniffsniffsniff.
Irritated, Kick huffs and walks over to him. "Nero, it's --"
When she catches sight of what he's found, she claps a shocked hand over her mouth. The little object is sparkling blue in the morning sunlight, and she doesn't have to pick it up to know what -- whose -- it is.
Quickly, she dislodges it from the crack in the floor and stuffs it in her pocket. "Not a word to Nick," she says sternly to the wolfpup. "I'll give it to him later. Don't even think about it -- I know how you two do that weird thing with your thoughts."
With a small whine, Nero ducks his head and makes his way over to his dish.
Unlike Kick, he still feels like eating.
(She may only be seven, but she's seen and heard enough to know that something like this is usually a Very Bad Sign.)
It's fairly early when Kick and Nero come trotting down the stairs, early enough for Nick to still be sound asleep, buried under a mound of blankets that Kick insisted she needed. It was cold last night.
The pair moves to Bar, where they're both provided with breakfast: waffles for Kick (naturally), and some meat of indiscernible origin for Nero.
Nero, though, seems to be distracted. When Kick sets the plate down on the floor, he doesn't come running.
"Nero?" she calls, blinking. "Where'd you go?"
After a few moments of searching, she spots him sniffing at the floor near the door.
"Come on, you," she says, still some distance away. "Y'gotta eat."
The wolf seems to be ignoring her. Sniffsniffsniff.
Irritated, Kick huffs and walks over to him. "Nero, it's --"
When she catches sight of what he's found, she claps a shocked hand over her mouth. The little object is sparkling blue in the morning sunlight, and she doesn't have to pick it up to know what -- whose -- it is.
Quickly, she dislodges it from the crack in the floor and stuffs it in her pocket. "Not a word to Nick," she says sternly to the wolfpup. "I'll give it to him later. Don't even think about it -- I know how you two do that weird thing with your thoughts."
With a small whine, Nero ducks his head and makes his way over to his dish.
Unlike Kick, he still feels like eating.
(She may only be seven, but she's seen and heard enough to know that something like this is usually a Very Bad Sign.)