[He squints, he chews, he apparently… says something foul to the serving woman. Once she has delivered the message, the waitress tries to leave this strange interaction behind, but Hayame bids her stay with a raised hand while she considers her options for a moment.
A moment in which more food arrives at that… man’s… table. Some of which is set out on the opposite side, as if for someone who is not there. Someone who could be her, if she just-
Missus, I really- The Zenite tries to excuse herself while still maintaining service industry standards of hospitality, but Hayame’s withering glare keeps her in place. I have work… And in Hayame’s defense, that glare is directed more inward and just manifesting outwardly, she’s not mad at the woman, she just… Finally,]
… I will sit.
[She had already promised service (ugh) to the restaurant to eat, but if they ran out of the food she longed to taste again… With the impermanence of everything that surrounded them since the first moment she woke up on Horos, Hayame had lost the ability to tell herself “I’ll just come back tomorrow”. She might be dead tomorrow. This whole world might be “destroyed” tomorrow.
And with that inspiring thought… Hayame’s large form is navigated somewhat clumsily through the crowded seating, the free chair at Gen’s table is removed… and a centaur plops her rump down onto the stone in its place, adopting a slightly awkward stance with her equine half arranged more like a dog would sit than anyone would imagine a horse would.
… There is no way she could stop herself, now. The food looks so familiar, so appetizing, and it’s hot and ready and right under her nose… and even if her entire body is tense as if guarding against potential attack and she looks a bit like a food-aggressive pit bull…
Her palms press together and her head dips downward in a brief gesture of thanks… before she picks up the bowl, and just the first bite makes her long tail suddenly whip out behind her, her shoulders round, and her fingers clench tight on the chopsticks.
no subject
A moment in which more food arrives at that… man’s… table. Some of which is set out on the opposite side, as if for someone who is not there. Someone who could be her, if she just-
Missus, I really- The Zenite tries to excuse herself while still maintaining service industry standards of hospitality, but Hayame’s withering glare keeps her in place. I have work… And in Hayame’s defense, that glare is directed more inward and just manifesting outwardly, she’s not mad at the woman, she just… Finally,]
… I will sit.
[She had already promised service (ugh) to the restaurant to eat, but if they ran out of the food she longed to taste again… With the impermanence of everything that surrounded them since the first moment she woke up on Horos, Hayame had lost the ability to tell herself “I’ll just come back tomorrow”. She might be dead tomorrow. This whole world might be “destroyed” tomorrow.
And with that inspiring thought… Hayame’s large form is navigated somewhat clumsily through the crowded seating, the free chair at Gen’s table is removed… and a centaur plops her rump down onto the stone in its place, adopting a slightly awkward stance with her equine half arranged more like a dog would sit than anyone would imagine a horse would.
… There is no way she could stop herself, now. The food looks so familiar, so appetizing, and it’s hot and ready and right under her nose… and even if her entire body is tense as if guarding against potential attack and she looks a bit like a food-aggressive pit bull…
Her palms press together and her head dips downward in a brief gesture of thanks… before she picks up the bowl, and just the first bite makes her long tail suddenly whip out behind her, her shoulders round, and her fingers clench tight on the chopsticks.
… It’s delicious.]