A young brown-haired child, his face bright with the excitement and adventure of it all, eagerly dragged behind him a reluctant blonde woman in her twenties. On her face was a condescending look of disgust and loathing, as well as a resigned grimace to the necessary evil. For Christmas, she'd given the child the only thing he wouldn't get any day of the year: she'd take him out to a place of his choice once and once only. And the very location they were was, as is said, the "case and point" of her disgust. It was completely and utterly middle-class. They even went so far as to advertise sales on already disgustingly cheap items in large banners. And she's known, with some resignation, that he'd choose somewhere "normal." She was annoyed, at times such as these, for this particular one's inability to be a spoiled and stuck-up rich child such as she was. But he was what he was, as she was forced to tell herself often, and this child was indeed unusual in many ways.
The young boy's chocolate-colored eyes lit up at the same moment the blonde chocked back a gag: as the doors opened and they stepped inside. Now he even forgot to pull her with them and his small hand slipped away from hers as he darted forward to explore and satisfy his unhealthy interest in a "normal person's" life. She was left only barely inside the store and doing everything she could not to immediately throw up her arms in disgust and leave as quickly as possible. Instead, she stood to the side, reminding herself not to furrow her brow as it would cause wrinkles, and extracted a box of her one guilty pleasure from her pocket: pocky kept for just such a stressful occasion. Even though, with no small amount of trepidation, she'd worn the cheapest of the outfits she owned, the value of it was more than any item that would be found in this commoner's store and she did not fail to look the out-of-place-heiress that she was as she awaited the boy's return from his hyperactive roaming.
The boy, meanwhile, darted from aisle to aisle, marveling at the products and their prices. While he was no doubt the recipient of many strange looks as he exclaimed over cheap or everyday items, such as irons, he failed to care in the slightest. It was only after he'd gone in some ways when a vague appetizing scent wafted toward him. It seemed familiar in a way, as if while he did not know the particulars, he knew the general item it came from. But he failed to identify it and gave up as soon as he realized he didn't know: what would be the point in worrying about it? Instead, he merely followed his nose.
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