"C—"
Thump.
A few, barely audible swears – all Russian – floated through the warm shop air, followed by the delicate shuffling of shoes. When she came around from the back corner of the shop, the dark-haired woman was rubbing the top of her head with a rueful smile.
"Yes, hello," her grin twists into something brighter, practically beaming as she takes great care ducking under a walkway to reach the front, "Coming, coming – terribly sorry for the delay."
She seemed to pause for a moment, peering down at the wizard – and his—
"Ah!" Then, suddenly, much more quietly – they’re in a bookstore, which, she’s learned, is similar enough to the library that a certain level a peace and quiet is expected: "A… raccoon, yes? They're very cute!"
She put down two narrow books she’d totted along from the back with soft thuds, leaning against the counter and tilting her head to get a better look; curiosity plucked at her attention span, long strands, having escaped from the bun atop her head, cascading down over her shoulders to hang about her neck. She offered the peculiar creature a more closed-lip beam, tickled at how it perched on the stranger's shoulder.
It reminded her of a street performer she’d seen in Lyon with a trained songbird...
Minus the feathers, of course, and with the addition of cute little hands instead.
Thump.
A few, barely audible swears – all Russian – floated through the warm shop air, followed by the delicate shuffling of shoes. When she came around from the back corner of the shop, the dark-haired woman was rubbing the top of her head with a rueful smile.
"Yes, hello," her grin twists into something brighter, practically beaming as she takes great care ducking under a walkway to reach the front, "Coming, coming – terribly sorry for the delay."
She seemed to pause for a moment, peering down at the wizard – and his—
"Ah!" Then, suddenly, much more quietly – they’re in a bookstore, which, she’s learned, is similar enough to the library that a certain level a peace and quiet is expected: "A… raccoon, yes? They're very cute!"
She put down two narrow books she’d totted along from the back with soft thuds, leaning against the counter and tilting her head to get a better look; curiosity plucked at her attention span, long strands, having escaped from the bun atop her head, cascading down over her shoulders to hang about her neck. She offered the peculiar creature a more closed-lip beam, tickled at how it perched on the stranger's shoulder.
It reminded her of a street performer she’d seen in Lyon with a trained songbird...
Minus the feathers, of course, and with the addition of cute little hands instead.
Joni speaks with a slight Russian accent