10-25-2018, 08:03 PM
Throughout his tale, though dismayed by nature, no grimace mushroomed unto his mug, not a single furrowed brow hooked downwards. There was no point in getting worked up over an issue one could not change, the wolverine understood, as all energy concentrated on ranting was inevitably wasted. And, for anything to actually come of the matter, it was often not account on the being which angrily raved, but someone else who’d decided to take thr subject and force out an outcome (Wendell had lacked the capacity to do so, obviously).
The inert expression which had previously made a home out of his minuscule profile all but remained as Ichigo took control of the topic; an earnest gesture such as a nod or a soft ”mmhm” presenting itself whenever the cougar brought up a point which the Brit couldn’t help himself but agree with, an outcome that reoccurred on numerous openings from the male’s start to finish. Judging by how ebullient his counterpart was in taking up with the mustelid’s scoop, a feat that definitely earned him a few fondness points, Wendell could tell that Mr. Kurosaki was an experienced man himself, to such a degree in years that was very much beyond his short three. It was indeed possible for the Pitt to genuinely be playing their cards, and have motives in being a nuisance to Sunhaven on account of the group’s status of war. War weakened any prosperous bunch, and Pittians feast on the weak; it all made sense, and was not completely beyond the bounds of chance. As the feline continued, more signs of approval proceeded his noggin, all until his response came to a climax, one that was twain satisfying and welcomed. "What’cha just said there, I agree with everything you just said," the wolverine spoke, his lips fresh from a glass pressed against them, ”those in charge were pushy, and the Pitt are a bunch’a numpties in need of a good conk; I just wish there was something we can do, y’know?”
Ensuing his finishing question, the mustelid replaced his now-empty glass with the one meant for his guest, stuffing away the exhausted goblet into the wicker-work basket. Next, his movements were focused on retrieving another glass, one drop-free of liquid, thereupon fetching the total of non-alcoholic beverages he had, laying out the thirst quenchers abaft the lone clear vessel. The creature had a knack for serving drinks, and saw it as an art form, though he’d never found a good opportunity suitable for his unnecessary expertise. Without opposable thumbs, like those humans in the same field, the Brit developed his own methods of nimbly conveying a bottle or two as if they were toys, and not directly causing a spillage in the process. Today, no fancy flips or stunts were pulled, though a void of his usual clumsiness might have been noticed- by a being of which properly understood Wendell. ”Got a buncha stuff,” he’d state in a puff, ”juice, water, soda, virgin cocktail accessories, a soda ‘r two.”
His deep eyes fixated upon his clientele, relying on him for an answer. ”If you don’t want anything, that’s also fine. I just find talking’s more enjoyable with goodies - speaking of which,” the mustelid spike as he rotated himself towards his straw container once more, ”got just about one o’ everything in here, snack-wise. Hungry?”.
Talk could wait for the time being; what he said was true, food made everything better.
The inert expression which had previously made a home out of his minuscule profile all but remained as Ichigo took control of the topic; an earnest gesture such as a nod or a soft ”mmhm” presenting itself whenever the cougar brought up a point which the Brit couldn’t help himself but agree with, an outcome that reoccurred on numerous openings from the male’s start to finish. Judging by how ebullient his counterpart was in taking up with the mustelid’s scoop, a feat that definitely earned him a few fondness points, Wendell could tell that Mr. Kurosaki was an experienced man himself, to such a degree in years that was very much beyond his short three. It was indeed possible for the Pitt to genuinely be playing their cards, and have motives in being a nuisance to Sunhaven on account of the group’s status of war. War weakened any prosperous bunch, and Pittians feast on the weak; it all made sense, and was not completely beyond the bounds of chance. As the feline continued, more signs of approval proceeded his noggin, all until his response came to a climax, one that was twain satisfying and welcomed. "What’cha just said there, I agree with everything you just said," the wolverine spoke, his lips fresh from a glass pressed against them, ”those in charge were pushy, and the Pitt are a bunch’a numpties in need of a good conk; I just wish there was something we can do, y’know?”
Ensuing his finishing question, the mustelid replaced his now-empty glass with the one meant for his guest, stuffing away the exhausted goblet into the wicker-work basket. Next, his movements were focused on retrieving another glass, one drop-free of liquid, thereupon fetching the total of non-alcoholic beverages he had, laying out the thirst quenchers abaft the lone clear vessel. The creature had a knack for serving drinks, and saw it as an art form, though he’d never found a good opportunity suitable for his unnecessary expertise. Without opposable thumbs, like those humans in the same field, the Brit developed his own methods of nimbly conveying a bottle or two as if they were toys, and not directly causing a spillage in the process. Today, no fancy flips or stunts were pulled, though a void of his usual clumsiness might have been noticed- by a being of which properly understood Wendell. ”Got a buncha stuff,” he’d state in a puff, ”juice, water, soda, virgin cocktail accessories, a soda ‘r two.”
His deep eyes fixated upon his clientele, relying on him for an answer. ”If you don’t want anything, that’s also fine. I just find talking’s more enjoyable with goodies - speaking of which,” the mustelid spike as he rotated himself towards his straw container once more, ”got just about one o’ everything in here, snack-wise. Hungry?”.
Talk could wait for the time being; what he said was true, food made everything better.