[ With an appreciative little bob of her head, she enters ahead of him. The supermarket is sticky and stale with a noticeable lack of air conditioning — note to self, don't buy produce here — and she's pivoting to toss the sample debris when Bob finds himself an audience.
"Inky! I love you!"
A little girl, no older than three or four, with swinging twin braids and a hand-me-down dress, wraps herself around Bob's legs in a tight hug. Evidently, she has nothing but appreciation and warm fuzzies for be-suited store mascots.
But what would a sweet kid be without an older brother desperate to look cool in front of his friends?
"Inky's for babies! Get him!"
And small gaggle of boys, probably anywhere between eight and eleven years old, start to kick and punch Bob's legs. The little girl, her face scrunched and red with childish anguish and her hands balled into trembling fists, yells at them to stop. The scene with the first kid? Cute! Nashua hadn't been inclined to interrupt. But she's only succeeded in taking two steps away when the sudden juvenile violence compels her to pivot. ]
Alright, let's get off. Your parents are probably looking for you.
[ One of the boys is not very impressed. "Fuck off, hag!"
Nashua can't help it. She buries a snort of laughter behind a hand. ]
no subject
[ With an appreciative little bob of her head, she enters ahead of him. The supermarket is sticky and stale with a noticeable lack of air conditioning — note to self, don't buy produce here — and she's pivoting to toss the sample debris when Bob finds himself an audience.
"Inky! I love you!"
A little girl, no older than three or four, with swinging twin braids and a hand-me-down dress, wraps herself around Bob's legs in a tight hug. Evidently, she has nothing but appreciation and warm fuzzies for be-suited store mascots.
But what would a sweet kid be without an older brother desperate to look cool in front of his friends?
"Inky's for babies! Get him!"
And small gaggle of boys, probably anywhere between eight and eleven years old, start to kick and punch Bob's legs. The little girl, her face scrunched and red with childish anguish and her hands balled into trembling fists, yells at them to stop. The scene with the first kid? Cute! Nashua hadn't been inclined to interrupt. But she's only succeeded in taking two steps away when the sudden juvenile violence compels her to pivot. ]
Alright, let's get off. Your parents are probably looking for you.
[ One of the boys is not very impressed. "Fuck off, hag!"
Nashua can't help it. She buries a snort of laughter behind a hand. ]