"Nothing yet," Presley admits, sparing Winter only a quick suspicious glance before returning his attention to the barista's comings and goings. The other cups on the table were abandoned by sophomores who probably should not be drinking so much spiked coffee, but that's hardly his responsibility, is it?
Presley makes a disgruntled hmph, and leans in towards Winter, because having an audience is more important than escaping from annoying classmates. "It just doesn't seem sanitary," he complains, gesturing to the feline handling their drinks.
She follows the line of Presley's hand, watching Pock-cat whip up what looks like one of those unicorn frappuchinos for a freshman. He makes an excellent point. Then again, Winter has probably consumed her fair share of accidental cat hair in her life.
"Can I make it worse?" She asks, as though 'no' is actually an option here. She lifts the mug to her lips, and takes another sip. The foam cicada drawn on her drink is, somehow, magically, still intact. "Pocket's a cat now, but she's a bug later. So, does that mean the c-cat hair's gonna be bug fur l-later?"
"Ugh. Congratulations, Carmichael, you've officially put me off Pocket's Café forever. I don't even know how you can bear to— Ah, forget that, I'm sure you eat bugs all the time."
He crosses his arms as he glares at her across the table, as though this is somehow Winter's fault. Unfortunately, he still wants that drink. "Is it helping?" he asks testily.
"Only sometimes," she offers as her matter-of-fact defense, with a soft and barely there smirk creeping across her lips. She can't hold his gaze for long, though, before she dips her chin to stare at her drink. "It's definitely strong," she confirms. "Which, for some folks, is helpful."
Presley sighs. He can hold onto his moods for only so long, especially in the face of someone who's being mostly inoffensive. The worst thing Winter has ever done to him is think dirt is fun.
"'Some folks' including yourself?" He raises his eyebrows. "Is the party a bit much?"
"'Lotta people," Winter replies, squinting a little as she nods. No use disagreeing with the obvious. She knocks her head to the side as a crowd of be-feathered freshmen wander by their table. "Lotta...wings. Aside from the alcohol making it easier to t-t-talk—" she didn't do that on purpose, honest. "The little cicada shape in the foam is cute."
Winter tips her absurd coffee mug just enough so that Presley can see the foam design.
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peckenpaugh2019-11-22 11:32 am
Winter & Presley
Presley makes a disgruntled hmph, and leans in towards Winter, because having an audience is more important than escaping from annoying classmates. "It just doesn't seem sanitary," he complains, gesturing to the feline handling their drinks.
Winter & Presley
"Can I make it worse?" She asks, as though 'no' is actually an option here. She lifts the mug to her lips, and takes another sip. The foam cicada drawn on her drink is, somehow, magically, still intact. "Pocket's a cat now, but she's a bug later. So, does that mean the c-cat hair's gonna be bug fur l-later?"
Winter & Presley
He crosses his arms as he glares at her across the table, as though this is somehow Winter's fault. Unfortunately, he still wants that drink. "Is it helping?" he asks testily.
Winter & Presley
Winter & Presley
"'Some folks' including yourself?" He raises his eyebrows. "Is the party a bit much?"
Winter & Presley
Winter tips her absurd coffee mug just enough so that Presley can see the foam design.