Welcome to Gaia! ::

"That's a beautiful name, Guest." He indulged in mentioning her name, relishing the knowledge of it. "My Very Best - that's me, Best for short." And that old flush of embarrassment returned, the ill-fated pompousness of his name nagging at him, and he delicately changed the subject. " - are you always here, Guest? This glade?"

He fell silent, considering his words before cautiously requesting - guilty and pleading - "might you be here tomorrow?" Best knew it to be selfish, but he had never been very good at holding off said selfishness, and there was a pain in his chest when he considered encountering the clearing empty. Another night, he hoped. At least another night.

She was, and he was thankful. Days were agonisingly whiled away as he went about his duties, distractedly and automatically stacking, stocking, selling - his competitive streak was put on hold and the store's processes lost their sheen in his anticipation of nightfall. He'd lain down and waited, and as the swamp stilled it was time to rise once more. He carefully straightened up and stretched a leg, just about ready to take off again.

He stopped mid-stretch of another leg and snapped "it's none of your business - go back to sleep."

Best refused to acknowledge the statement, sourly stepping out between the rest of his siblings and extended family to scamper off at the edge of the shop. He ran this time, shame and guilt on his hooves...he rarely kept such important things from his family (granted, he rarely had very important secrets to keep and there was at least one horrendous gossip) and to be honest, he was quite serious about it.

Serious enough to be at the glade again, panting slightly, seeking Guest.

He'd learnt to appreciate her dry humour, or at least, that's what he thought of it as. He smiled. "Hello Guest. You're the best kind of surprise - definitely the prettiest." And she was always impeccably beautiful. For a moment there, the guilt was deflected with burgeoning joy.

He felt his heart catch. "I try," he laughed, then as the adrenaline wore down, the guilt returned, smile distant. "Today wasn't particularly exciting, not until now. My father is thinking of cooking his chickens again, I can tell. And one of the supply girls has a little stout pig too, that he's eyeing up." Mid-report, he swallowed, and carefully said, "...and talking about my father, I'm thinking that maybe I'd like to bring you back to meet him. ...My family. You won't have to change your hours or anything," he hastened to add. "I'll - I'll get it sorted. If you would come with me."