Cara (
wrongkindofsith) wrote2017-07-30 11:52 pm
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The Onsen, Sunday Evening
After several days of increasingly less subtle hints from the squirrels (which given their general lack of subtly to begin with...), various checks of the calendar, and what was definitely not any kind of panic attack, Cara had made plans for the evening. Very good, not overly complex plans.
However she had failed to account for the fact the island hated her. Personally.
"Seriously?"
[For the girl!]
However she had failed to account for the fact the island hated her. Personally.
"Seriously?"
[For the girl!]
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"Think they mean 'Out of Order' as in 'We're on vacation so we're closed,' or as in 'Shit is Broken, Go Away?'" she asked, putting a hand on her hip. "Because one of those, we can just ignore."
Surreal was hardly one to let a little B&E stand in her way of a date.
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It was exactly like a pout. An adorable one.
"Knowing this place, the latter," she said, kicking a rock. Grumpily.
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"Fine," she said with a sigh, leaning in against Surreal. "At least nothing worse can happen if we're not here."
Cara, why would you jinx yourself by saying that?
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"Then you can finish it off." Because she knew she was just as fond of stabbing things.
She leant over to steal a kiss, because words were hard.
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Surreal just laughed, leaning in to let Cara steal that kiss, and gladly. Though was it really stealing, if she was willing?
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Cara nipped gently at Surreal's lip before pulling back slightly. "We could always just stay in." Try and figure out the answer to the question her narrative had posed.
Naturally, this would be when she turned into a chipmunk.
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There was no girlfriend. Surreal was not pleased.
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"Sugar, please tell me this is a very bad practical joke."
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Cara scampered up onto Surreal's foot, sounding very indignant indeed.
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She curled up in Surreal's palm in a fuzzy sulk.
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Surreal knew how frustrating it was to lose agency, for any reason. At least she could give Cara choices while she was stuck being cute and fuzy.
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Cara hopped across to Surreal's shoulder and nestled into the crook of her neck. The way things were going tonight, they'd probably be attacked by something on the way back to her apartment, and Surreal'd need her hands free for stabbing.
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Oh well, at least it wasn't raining flowers. That might be the only thing that would make poor Cara even grumpier.