|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Dec 19, 2011 1:50 pm
Anbu stared at the shop, willing herself to take a deep breath before entering it once more. She had a reason for being here...a very good, NOT TROUBLE-MAKING reason. So if that vile woman was there and wanted to try causing HER trouble, she could stuff it! Anbu sauntered in as if she had no issues with the place, a wrapped box in one hand. The box held what she'd promised to contribute to the tea she and Ment were going to enjoy...cookies. Gingersnaps, to be specific. Easy to make and perfect for the season.
And she'd made them herself! She pestered her Gramps until he'd given her his recipe for them and let her at the kitchen. And she'd made sure they were edible before packaging them. The Scent moved for the counter, looking about for her tea partner. "Ment?"
|
 |
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Apr 09, 2012 4:23 pm
Ment had woken up late that day, the cold winter air breaking his fragile will to leave his bed and instead he took comfort under the warmth of the many blankets he liked to burry himself under. When he had finally managed to pull himself from slumber, the sun was already high in the sky and he knew the amount of time he had to get ready was short and managed to suffer through a cold bath just to cut time.
Still, Ment was running late and when he heard the jingle of the bell from the front door and Anbu's voice calling from the back counter, he tripped over himself as he through on some clothes. A thud rang out from the upper floor of the store and he called down hastily.
"I-I'll be right there! Just, uhm, make yourself at home in the back room!"
Not enough time. Not enough time, Ment screamed internally as he grabbed a black pair of dress slacks and pulled them up over his silk boy-shorts. He grabbed a pair of plain white socks, pulling them on quickly and throwing on his pair of lace-up sneakers. Rummaging through his shirts, he found a pink wife beater and a red off-the-shoulder sweat shirt and threw them both on.
Had he not slept in, he'd have had more time to dress more... appropriately. But today, he was going to have to look like a somewhat normal teenage boy. Grabbing a brush and running it through his half-dry hair, he chucked it to the floor and began to scramble down the stairs.
|
 |
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|