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fandomtownies2016-06-09 03:29 pm
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Taste of Thai, Thursday Evening
Cassandra had not been this nervous about Garik since around this time last year, and she hated it fiercely. She had done nothing wrong. Garik's opinions might have been wrong, but he, too, had done nothing wrong. There was absolutely no reason for their association to feel as tenuous and fragile as it now did, and yet: it did.
Naturally, she arrived at the restaurant fifteen minutes early, wearing clothes she had switched out several times before finally saying to Hell with it and settling on a nice long eggplant sweater and loose trousers, hair loose, and... dithering. Largely with the hair, which got in the way and was irritating on so many levels. Why had she bothered? It was far more practical to keep it up.
Maker. And she was still standing outside the restaurant and Garik hadn't even shown up yet. How was she supposed to make it through the evening?
[[ cass is here for the one mentioned. taste of thai is open for other business too, though! ]]
Naturally, she arrived at the restaurant fifteen minutes early, wearing clothes she had switched out several times before finally saying to Hell with it and settling on a nice long eggplant sweater and loose trousers, hair loose, and... dithering. Largely with the hair, which got in the way and was irritating on so many levels. Why had she bothered? It was far more practical to keep it up.
Maker. And she was still standing outside the restaurant and Garik hadn't even shown up yet. How was she supposed to make it through the evening?
[[ cass is here for the one mentioned. taste of thai is open for other business too, though! ]]
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"Hey," he said by way of greeting. "I like your hair."
That was a safe topic right?
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"So we're both looking good then."
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"That we are," Cassandra said. There was a long pause.
Then she facepalmed. "Maker. I am ridiculous."
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"We have reservations," she assured Garik quietly. "I was specific."
Of course she was.
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Then facepalmed again.
Then said nothing else as she walked up to the host and asked him to take them to their seats, instead.
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This would not be true in the future.
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Leroy was the worst.
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Do not let Cassandra have a talk with the squirrel.
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"I'll be able to handle him," he said. "Threatening to withhold the rum does wonders."
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None of the other squirrels were that desperate.
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He did have ghastly chest hair. For a squirrel.
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At least Face was only going to pick the eye-searing clothing for undercover work.
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Which was not the same thing.
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