[They don't need too much. They've never needed "too much", but it would be nice to have more than a few sets of clothing and a pocket to put money that's not buried under everything else, even if money is impossible for them to come by most of the time.
Ain leans forward and kisses Vash, on the lips this time. It's chaste, but he lets it linger, momentarily brushing their hands together before his brain for some reason thinks better of it and he draws back.]
I'll be back. Make sure you rest... and if something happens, I'll be at the fountain. I won't crawl into it this time!
[He swears. But with that, he gets up, and after emptying out the bag, he's off. This thing sure does feel like fucking Nothing when there's not a single thing in it.
By now, it's around noonish, give or take. The lunch crowd is out in force, and that's the perfect time for Ain to gun it to the town square toward the fountain (do not get into it, do not go into the fountain, do not splash) and set the bag down right in front of it, open so that people get the general idea of Put Money There Thanks. It's been a while since he's had to do this, but he's always been proficient at finding the most populous spot and just going for it. If people want him to leave, they'll throw rocks at him.
...but they don't. Of course they don't. Ain is a songbird, and songbirds are always welcome to sing out in public. Birds are loud, needy pets, and few people actually want to own one — but there's hardly a person out there who will turn down a song from a mockingbird. He was quite literally bred to sing, and sing he will. Loudly, beautifully, letting his voice carry on the wind as he stands up on the edge of the fountain so that he becomes the day's spectacle. The crowd is slow to gather, at first. Some simply walk on. Others stop for brief stints before moving on. But it's when one or two people stop — really stop — that herd mentality kicks in. Where does that voice come from, who is that pet?
It takes only one person stepping forward to give a tip before others fall into the pattern, and at that point, Ain is trying not to smile a bit self-aggrandizingly about it. Yes he is VERY pretty and VERY good at singing so you should give him money because he wants it, thank you.
Ain stands out in the wind and snow for four hours, only sometimes hopping off of his fountain perch to remove accumulated snow from the bag and shuffle somewhere else. Facing north, then east, then south, then west. Walking around the immediate epicentre of the town so that his legs don't freeze off and so that more people can hear him. Doing small dances to attract attention, but never anything more than a little jig or pulling someone from the audience in. At one point, another bird joins him in song.
It's nice. It's good. And four hours later, Ain is freezing half to death, feels way too hot (definitely because of exertion and nothing else), and it's closer to dinnertime than it is to lunch. But he has money. They're not loaded now by any stretch of the imagination, but they have enough, and instead of heading right back to base... Ain veers toward the jewellery shop he saw yesterday, because he has plans, dammit. He makes a beeline for the necklaces, trying to find something that's particularly... like... he doesn't know, Vash-ish, when the cashier walks up to him and asks if she can help him.]
I want to get something... [and he shrugs, because he doesn't know,] nice for someone important to me.
["How important?" She asks, "A friend? A sibling, a parent? Someone you love?"]
"Love"... [He echoes, weighing the word on his tongue. Vash said it this morning. He loves Ain's wings, he said. That word is heavy, and there's a lot Ain doesn't understand about it, how people use it.] Haha, I don't know. Miss, what does "love" feel like?
[Maybe she pities him, or maybe she thinks he's stupid. He can't tell from her gaze, especially as it swivels back to the display. "Love is complicated, sweetie. It can be a lot of things. For me and my partner, it means we can't live without the other one. It feels light and fluffy, but it's also stressful. I think about our future together all the time, if we're going to have kids or move away from this town or stay as we are. Things like that. For you... I'm not you, so I wouldn't know, but I heard you singing earlier. Who inspires you to sing like that, then come in here with your tips and buy something?"]
Mm. [...] I sing for him nowadays. Or maybe that's not quite accurate. Because of him? I told him yesterday I'd save my best songs for him, actually. Is that love?
[Ain "loves" things, too, like apple pie and getting into fountains and snow, but those are things he can always live without. If people use the word "love" on people when they can't stand to be away from them... if people use that word when they're thinking about a future together, if someone being your reason to do the things you do is "love"... ah. Shit.
She pats his arm with a knowing smile, reaching out for a particular necklace — a gold chain with a green gemstone charm on the end of it. It's not expensive enough to be real, real gemstones are outside their means right now. "Your eyes are green, so if he loves you, too, this should remind him of you. What do you think?"
Ain doesn't have the willpower to resist thinking about this anymore, so he simply nods and shuffles along to the front, where she rings him up and boxes it and sends him off. This woman has the energy of a bartender who knows a bit too much, he thinks, and maybe that's why she works in a jewellery store. From one gossip mill to the next.
He drags his feet a bit, holding the box in his hand and running his thumbs over the velvet, before shoving it into the bag. Before going back to base, he stops off at a fast-food joint to get them burgers and fries and milkshakes ("in the middle of a snowstorm?" yeah), and then makes his way back. And boy, when he comes into the room holding food and a bag of money with a fucking gift inside of it, he looks distracted as hell. Frazzled, almost. A deer caught in emotional-revelation headlights.
no subject
[They don't need too much. They've never needed "too much", but it would be nice to have more than a few sets of clothing and a pocket to put money that's not buried under everything else, even if money is impossible for them to come by most of the time.
Ain leans forward and kisses Vash, on the lips this time. It's chaste, but he lets it linger, momentarily brushing their hands together before his brain for some reason thinks better of it and he draws back.]
I'll be back. Make sure you rest... and if something happens, I'll be at the fountain. I won't crawl into it this time!
[He swears. But with that, he gets up, and after emptying out the bag, he's off. This thing sure does feel like fucking Nothing when there's not a single thing in it.
By now, it's around noonish, give or take. The lunch crowd is out in force, and that's the perfect time for Ain to gun it to the town square toward the fountain (do not get into it, do not go into the fountain, do not splash) and set the bag down right in front of it, open so that people get the general idea of Put Money There Thanks. It's been a while since he's had to do this, but he's always been proficient at finding the most populous spot and just going for it. If people want him to leave, they'll throw rocks at him.
...but they don't. Of course they don't. Ain is a songbird, and songbirds are always welcome to sing out in public. Birds are loud, needy pets, and few people actually want to own one — but there's hardly a person out there who will turn down a song from a mockingbird. He was quite literally bred to sing, and sing he will. Loudly, beautifully, letting his voice carry on the wind as he stands up on the edge of the fountain so that he becomes the day's spectacle. The crowd is slow to gather, at first. Some simply walk on. Others stop for brief stints before moving on. But it's when one or two people stop — really stop — that herd mentality kicks in. Where does that voice come from, who is that pet?
It takes only one person stepping forward to give a tip before others fall into the pattern, and at that point, Ain is trying not to smile a bit self-aggrandizingly about it. Yes he is VERY pretty and VERY good at singing so you should give him money because he wants it, thank you.
Ain stands out in the wind and snow for four hours, only sometimes hopping off of his fountain perch to remove accumulated snow from the bag and shuffle somewhere else. Facing north, then east, then south, then west. Walking around the immediate epicentre of the town so that his legs don't freeze off and so that more people can hear him. Doing small dances to attract attention, but never anything more than a little jig or pulling someone from the audience in. At one point, another bird joins him in song.
It's nice. It's good. And four hours later, Ain is freezing half to death, feels way too hot (definitely because of exertion and nothing else), and it's closer to dinnertime than it is to lunch. But he has money. They're not loaded now by any stretch of the imagination, but they have enough, and instead of heading right back to base... Ain veers toward the jewellery shop he saw yesterday, because he has plans, dammit. He makes a beeline for the necklaces, trying to find something that's particularly... like... he doesn't know, Vash-ish, when the cashier walks up to him and asks if she can help him.]
I want to get something... [and he shrugs, because he doesn't know,] nice for someone important to me.
["How important?" She asks, "A friend? A sibling, a parent? Someone you love?"]
"Love"... [He echoes, weighing the word on his tongue. Vash said it this morning. He loves Ain's wings, he said. That word is heavy, and there's a lot Ain doesn't understand about it, how people use it.] Haha, I don't know. Miss, what does "love" feel like?
[Maybe she pities him, or maybe she thinks he's stupid. He can't tell from her gaze, especially as it swivels back to the display. "Love is complicated, sweetie. It can be a lot of things. For me and my partner, it means we can't live without the other one. It feels light and fluffy, but it's also stressful. I think about our future together all the time, if we're going to have kids or move away from this town or stay as we are. Things like that. For you... I'm not you, so I wouldn't know, but I heard you singing earlier. Who inspires you to sing like that, then come in here with your tips and buy something?"]
Mm. [...] I sing for him nowadays. Or maybe that's not quite accurate. Because of him? I told him yesterday I'd save my best songs for him, actually. Is that love?
[Ain "loves" things, too, like apple pie and getting into fountains and snow, but those are things he can always live without. If people use the word "love" on people when they can't stand to be away from them... if people use that word when they're thinking about a future together, if someone being your reason to do the things you do is "love"... ah. Shit.
She pats his arm with a knowing smile, reaching out for a particular necklace — a gold chain with a green gemstone charm on the end of it. It's not expensive enough to be real, real gemstones are outside their means right now. "Your eyes are green, so if he loves you, too, this should remind him of you. What do you think?"
Ain doesn't have the willpower to resist thinking about this anymore, so he simply nods and shuffles along to the front, where she rings him up and boxes it and sends him off. This woman has the energy of a bartender who knows a bit too much, he thinks, and maybe that's why she works in a jewellery store. From one gossip mill to the next.
He drags his feet a bit, holding the box in his hand and running his thumbs over the velvet, before shoving it into the bag. Before going back to base, he stops off at a fast-food joint to get them burgers and fries and milkshakes ("in the middle of a snowstorm?" yeah), and then makes his way back. And boy, when he comes into the room holding food and a bag of money with a fucking gift inside of it, he looks distracted as hell. Frazzled, almost. A deer caught in emotional-revelation headlights.
This is very bad for his blood pressure.]