Quoted By: >>67079548
>>67079020
>A quick run down to the store and I've got what I'm after. I triple-check to make sure the variant I'm grabbing is completely carnivore safe. Re-reading the label over and over as I pass through the little check out.
>"Not feeling well, hun?" The older triceratops woman grocer asks as she scans the few cans of stuff and ginger ale.
>"Not for me, actually."
>"Aww how nice. You have a good day." I nod as I finish paying and step out into the summer heat again. I make the quick walk back to Nick's house, starting to sweat through my jacket.
>I creak the door open, she didn't bother locking it it seems, and step in. I spy her napping on the couch again. I consider returning the favor from this morning and jostling her awake. I smile down and decide against it.
>I lock the front door and deposit some of the goods into the kitchen. I look back to the TV playing to no one awake and check my phone for the time. It's just a hair passed noon. Might as well get this started.
>I prep a bowl from the instructions on the can. A flood of memories of childhood comes back to me. Memories of a very young very sick Anon being consoled by mom, fretting and unable to leave my side. This smell present in the room, the only food I could stomach.
>The microwave dings and I pull the steaming bowl out and turn. I spy a curious pair of eyes peeking over the couch. Still a bit red and puffy.
>I maneuver my way over, trying to not scald my hands from the hot bowl nor spill any of the salty delight onto the floor. I set it down in front of Nick, spoon in the bowl and take a seat next to her.
>"Got you some ginger ale as well. Just in case."
>"...thanks." she still is reticent but more relaxed.
>Very slowly and deliberately she starts to eat. Carefully blowing to ensure her tongue isn't singed. As the first spoonful lands in her mouth a tear rolls down her face.
>I look over in concern.
cont.
>A quick run down to the store and I've got what I'm after. I triple-check to make sure the variant I'm grabbing is completely carnivore safe. Re-reading the label over and over as I pass through the little check out.
>"Not feeling well, hun?" The older triceratops woman grocer asks as she scans the few cans of stuff and ginger ale.
>"Not for me, actually."
>"Aww how nice. You have a good day." I nod as I finish paying and step out into the summer heat again. I make the quick walk back to Nick's house, starting to sweat through my jacket.
>I creak the door open, she didn't bother locking it it seems, and step in. I spy her napping on the couch again. I consider returning the favor from this morning and jostling her awake. I smile down and decide against it.
>I lock the front door and deposit some of the goods into the kitchen. I look back to the TV playing to no one awake and check my phone for the time. It's just a hair passed noon. Might as well get this started.
>I prep a bowl from the instructions on the can. A flood of memories of childhood comes back to me. Memories of a very young very sick Anon being consoled by mom, fretting and unable to leave my side. This smell present in the room, the only food I could stomach.
>The microwave dings and I pull the steaming bowl out and turn. I spy a curious pair of eyes peeking over the couch. Still a bit red and puffy.
>I maneuver my way over, trying to not scald my hands from the hot bowl nor spill any of the salty delight onto the floor. I set it down in front of Nick, spoon in the bowl and take a seat next to her.
>"Got you some ginger ale as well. Just in case."
>"...thanks." she still is reticent but more relaxed.
>Very slowly and deliberately she starts to eat. Carefully blowing to ensure her tongue isn't singed. As the first spoonful lands in her mouth a tear rolls down her face.
>I look over in concern.
cont.