Eventually, however, she has no choice but to approach her father when her tummy keeps making its increasingly uncomfortable noises, as she hasn't eaten since her lunch at school that day. Keenly reflecting upon her father's words, she reluctantly makes her way down the hallway, and stands just outside the doorway of the room, one hand on the frame. She dares not say a word, but silently watches the meaningless flashing images on the screen until someone happens to notice.
Once his weight falls back into his favourite chair after a rousing play, the large rabbit catches a glimpse of his daughter in the dark corridor. "What?" he asks flatly. His two mates also fall silent as they too notice the sudden addition to their company.
She puts a paw to her stomach as she looks at him pleadingly, trying to communicate without breaking her vow of silence. But, after a few futile seconds of an empty reciprocated stare, she whines quietly, "I'm hungry..."
"We'll have dinner after the game," he responds dismissively, turning his attention back to the telly so as not to miss the next play.
Reese looks at the screen again, hand still helplessly in place, as she tries to decipher how his answer translates into real time.
She swallows nervously before risking to speak again during this important event from which she had been expressly forbidden. "Wh-when is it over...?"
Perched on the edge of his seat, without taking his eyes off of the players standing idly on the pitch, her father gestures towards the screen. "It's third quarter. So wait until that clock counts down two more times."
She squints and finds the small time display on the bright surface. Eleven minutes, she says to herself. That's not too bad. She remains in the doorway momentarily, starting to turn towards her room, but hesitates as she realises that she will have no means to monitor the countdown to her relief from there. Thus, as she has already dared to breach the men's party this much, she slowly makes her way towards a vacant seat on the musty hessian sofa, hoping that her apparent reluctance would forgive her intrusion. She carefully lifts her weight upon the cushion, lowering herself into place so as not to draw attention from the others with any undue sound or movement. From this vantage point, she can keep an eye on the clock, so long as her hosts don't mind her silent presence.
The match continues forth, and with it, the clock, which Reese soon discovers stops periodically. With each such pause, she unconsciously slumps in her seat with disappointment, becoming more keenly aware of the sharp pangs of hunger stirring in her belly. She looks about the room aimlessly, perhaps for some other means of time keeping, or anything else to pass the long wait. Growing impatient, she kicks her feet involuntarily, abruptly stopping once she notices, hoping that the rest of the lot hadn't. Each time the digits on the clock display resume their downward march, her eyes widen with anticipation as she squirms in her seat. How much lower will they get this time? Her relief is so tangibly at the end of that visibly finite cycle, but how much longer will it take to get there?
The bunny tries to behave herself so as to be allowed to remain in the same room as the only indicator of the end of her excruciating wait, as well as the only one who can offer her relief once he is willing. In hopes of presenting herself as an acceptable mature member of the household, she tries to follow the events of the sport, but each attempt to focus on it quickly leads to boredom as her attention drifts away within a matter of seconds. Nothing about this game makes any sense to her, yet the men in the room and the announcers' voices seem to indicate that it's a thrilling spectacle indeed. At seemingly random moments, booming voices fill the house, rattling the paned windows, a phenomenon that's usually reserved for her father's anger directed towards her; she grew uncomfortable and anxious each time, conditioned to fear his wrath.
Finally, after one such shout that she thinks was probably one of triumph, an advert takes over the station, and the patriarch pushes himself out of his chair. "You guys need anything?" he asks his company as he moves to the kitchen. Reese's floppy ears automatically lift up as much as they could, her eyes looking hopefully towards him in hopes that he would remember her plight. She hears the glass bottles from the refrigerator clinking as he pulls out a few for the next session. He nearly returns to his seat when his gaze falls upon the small girl in the room with them. His content grin droops about his cigar as he remembers his responsibility. He heaves a sigh and returns to the kitchen, grumbling, "Alright, I'll order the pizza now..." Despite being aware of the wait yet for delivery, Reese happily bounces involuntarily in her seat, a smile of anticipation pushing up her cheeks. She resolves to be well behaved, in case this on some off chance would help the process along in her favour.
Whilst her father is ringing the pizza shop, his two companions snicker to one another. "Hey, uh, kid," the one sitting nearest says to her. She turns her attention from the kitchen to the guest. He holds out a glass towards her; a few ice cubes rattle in an opaque yellow liquid. "You want some of this in the meantime? It'll help fill you up."
Reese thinks for a moment. She had learnt in school not to take anything from a stranger... But this isn't a stranger; it's one of Daddy's friends. Besides, at this point, she would gladly welcome anything that would help subdue her painful hunger... "Wh-what is it...?" she asks quietly.
The man looks into the glass as though to remind himself. "It's... juice. You like juice?"
Reese nods slowly, still a bit sceptical.
"What kind of juice do you like?"
She replies almost embarrassedly, "Apple..."
He glances quickly at the other friend. "Well, here's orange." He leans forward and outstretches the glass to her. Without an opportunity to think any further on the matter, she reflexively takes it. She eyes it warily; it looks like orange juice, but perhaps a bit thinner than she remembers... She raises the glass to her muzzle slowly, still investigating its properties. It definitely smells like orange juice, as promised, but somehow also like her dad and his friends. Is this the brand of orange juice that grown ups drink? Would this make her more accepted amongst the adults?
All things considered, she isn't about to refuse at this point. She tips the glass and begins swallowing its contents.
The man who offered her the beverage smacks the other with the back of his hand to get his attention. "Shh shh, look, she's drinking it all...!" The two snicker quietly again.
At this point her father returns, the order now placed. As he sits, his friends silently point to Reese, now holding the nearly empty glass in her lap. He looks back at them, the lot exchanging smiles of amused disbelief. He leans over to his daughter. "Whatcha got there, Reese?"
She picks up the glass to examine its little remaining contents. "Orange... juice...?" She suddenly straightens and puts a hand to her mouth, the escaping vapours tickling her throat.
The men stifle their laughter at the cub's first exposure to their so-called fire water. "How is it?"
She swirls the liquid about the glass, watching it for a moment before responding. "It's... pretty good..."
"Who gave it to you? Did you say thank you?"
She begins to shake her head deliberately but is immediately interrupted by a hiccough, sending her upright again. "Thank you..." she finishes bashfully, raising her eyes to the anonymous giver.
"You've almost drank it all up; do you want another?"
Eager to get some more of anything in her stomach, she nods. Her dad voluntarily returns to the kitchen to prepare another glass of the adult beverage.
She finished off the first glass as the next is brought out to her. The adults settle into their respective chairs as their programme resumes, returning their attention now to it. Reese happily sits amongst them, holding their drink and watching their sports. She still could find no reason nor rhyme in its events, but she wasn't about to object. For the first time, she felt like she was included in their group. After all, she was nearly ten years old. She must really be mature!
By the time the next round of adverts comes about, the men find that she has downed the second tall glass, now set next to the first empty one. Both of her hands press against her abdomen, and her eyes stare blankly at nothing.
"Is the pizza time here yet..." she says slowly, swaying subtly in her seat.
"P-pretty soon," her father responds with difficulty through a suppressed laugh whilst his mates cover their own.
Reese makes no acknowledgement of his answer, but steadies herself with one paw upon the sofa. She remains motionless for a few more moments before shakily getting to her feet. "Daddy, I don't feel good..." she says towards nobody in particular, before groping along the wall and finding her way out of the room. Despite putting most of her weight upon the vertical surface, she still manages to trip over her own large feet a few times as she clambers down the hallway towards the comfort of her bed to alleviate this dizzying ailment.
Now out of the girl's line of sight, the friends let loose their pent up laughter, keeling forward, slapping their knees, and shoving one another in a fit of hilarity at the show. "Dude, your daughter is awesome!"
Inspired by a conversation with \r\n\t\t\t\t\t
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