Watching the hapless ice cream fiend paw at everything in the freezer before he found a box vaguely shaped like a pizza box to squint at. By memory it seemed he switched the oven on and moved to console a jacket, a series of actions that only served to boil Hadley's blood to ever higher temperatures, itching under the skin almost threatening feathers regardless of magic.
“Stop fondling the chair, Dallas,” they huffed, feeling the way their tail puffed up against the fabric of their dress. “This is stupid. You're going to lose your vision.” Maybe it wasn't as serious as that, but Hadley was no optometrist or whatever. Which was the point of this conversation. Were they going to have to trick him into the car with turkey sausages like a dog going to the vet?
“Stop fondling the chair, Dallas,” they huffed, feeling the way their tail puffed up against the fabric of their dress. “This is stupid. You're going to lose your vision.” Maybe it wasn't as serious as that, but Hadley was no optometrist or whatever. Which was the point of this conversation. Were they going to have to trick him into the car with turkey sausages like a dog going to the vet?