I listen to Sugaar's pitch while I lick my bowl clean and gnaw on the crusty bread. He always was one hell of a salesman. He offers Glass and the wolf girl dreams and illusions and mysteries...but doesn't name his price. He never does. I grin and crunch my bread crust.
Glass seems to have gone contemplative. "Still and all. Quiet nights, summer rain," she muses, though I don't think she's saying all she could. "Escaping notice," is how she finally concludes, "Folk speak plainer when they've no care for your being there. And may be I could catch those're after coming by unseen, then, if chance favoured the time particular of such a dream."
Picked the wrong lover in that case, Glass my girl. I snort. I seem to recall that pretty boy turning her out dressed as a peacock. Ah, well.
The wolf girl asks whose dreams they are, which is more clever than I'd have given her credit for. But she seems to forget the moment the words pass her lips. "Yeah, except you hear stuff you wish you didn't," she mutters to Glass, and says that more drinks are on the way. Well, she might not be bright, but she does her job well.
I lick gravy from my whiskers and sprawl on the floor with the bone pressed between my forepaws. One ear is turned to the conversation as I crunch it between my jaws, licking marrow from the splinters. I'm surprised to find that I'm having fun. Sugaar and I should do this more often.
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Date: 2010-04-21 06:23 pm (UTC)Glass seems to have gone contemplative. "Still and all. Quiet nights, summer rain," she muses, though I don't think she's saying all she could. "Escaping notice," is how she finally concludes, "Folk speak plainer when they've no care for your being there. And may be I could catch those're after coming by unseen, then, if chance favoured the time particular of such a dream."
Picked the wrong lover in that case, Glass my girl. I snort. I seem to recall that pretty boy turning her out dressed as a peacock. Ah, well.
The wolf girl asks whose dreams they are, which is more clever than I'd have given her credit for. But she seems to forget the moment the words pass her lips. "Yeah, except you hear stuff you wish you didn't," she mutters to Glass, and says that more drinks are on the way. Well, she might not be bright, but she does her job well.
I lick gravy from my whiskers and sprawl on the floor with the bone pressed between my forepaws. One ear is turned to the conversation as I crunch it between my jaws, licking marrow from the splinters. I'm surprised to find that I'm having fun. Sugaar and I should do this more often.