07-24-2018, 07:44 PM
ROSEMARY ROUX
She walked over to the meeting spot with a slow, unrushed gait; this little event sounded like a break from their daily activities, and so she felt no rush to hurry up and act casual. As she approached, her nose crinkled as she caught the smell of her platonic partner for the evening; she never treated Jacob with any particular care (not like how she treated Pincher's children), though she never acted in a hostile manner towards him. With her best try at a neutral expression - though she couldn't understand, for the life of her, what Pincher saw in the deadbeat, chubby mutt of a male - she sat down in front of him on a squishy black pillow.
Glancing between Jacob and the food, she sniffed the air experimentally as she tried not to grimace. She smelled meat in the sauce, but nothing else. Forked tail lashing once behind her, she reached out a paw towards the odd worm-like plate, before she slowly pulled her paw back to her side. Her glance at Jacob, albeit brief, clearly conveyed her unasked question: You expect me to eat this? The slices of bread and desserts smelled even worse; what she wouldn't give for a simple rat right about now! A grimace flashed across her muzzle for a half-second, before her neutral expression came back as she returned her gaze to Jacob. Her claws in her right paw flexed experimentally as she asked, with a tense tone, "Are you... enjoying that?" Her paw flicked upward to point at the odd food he was eating, as if to punctuate the end of her short question.
Softly sighing to herself, she could tell this would be a long night. She could practically feel the tension in the air - perhaps she could eat that instead.
© MADI
I FEEL SO HUNGRY —
— Dear diary, I don't know what's going on, but something's up / The dog won't stop barking, and I think my TV is bust / Every channel is the same, it's sending me insane / And earlier somebody bit me, what a fucking day / The sky is falling / It's fucking boring / I'm going braindead, isolated / God is a shithead / And we're his rejects / Traumatized for breakfast / I can't stomach any more survival horror / Dear diary, I feel itchy like there's bugs under my skin / The dog's gone rabid (shut the fuck up) / Doing my head in —— WHAT THE HELL IS HAPPENING?