08-11-2018, 08:45 PM
The wolfhound smiles brightly as a pink feline he identified as Delilah came to the scene. Leroy had heard that she was going through some mentally unstable phase right now, and that was perfect for the situation, for his “pie”, if one could call such a monstrosity that, was physically unstable. Incredibly physically unstable. His amber eyes widened in astonishment as Delilah dubbed his creation “good”, literally seconds after her noticeably gagging. Leroy couldn’t comprehend anyone having the ability to speak after consuming such a thing, let alone complimenting it afterwards. "It is good, isn’t it? ‘S also very good for ya, very nutritious," he’d crookedly coo.
That made her the first liar of the day. He had to remember that one.
As for his next clientele: whoo-wee, he had hit the goldmine. The femme appeared more somber than Aya, that fact he had thought impossible to believe. Her noggin was coated in a hideous hairy amalgam of blue and pink, that was styled so that her cheerless mug could be seen by all. The mutt could tell solely based on Stocking’s fashion sense alone that this was going to be amazing.
To start, he got a kick out of how eager she was to take nourishment. If that forced him to stifle a giggle, then what happened next nearly brought him to tears. The fallen angel was on the brink of going through the five stages of grief throughout the situation. He didn’t even know who this Gordon Ramsey was, and he found it utterly hilarious. First, there was denial, as she continued chewing her portion despite evidently hating it, followed by anger, depression, and acceptance in that glorious reaction/rant (the only stage missing was bargaining). Barely keeping it together, the hound would address Stocking’s issue next. ”No need ta’ bust my chops, sugar, ‘s just pie,” he’d quip innocently, ”it can’t be that bad if Ms. Pink over here enjoys it”.
Stocking was now the most honest one here.
Disappointment is what gushed through him as his final visitor spoke, revealing that he would rather protect the sick than join them. ”Tsk tsk, medic-boy,” he’d beer tauntingly at Malphas, ”you’re certainly missin’ out. It’s good pie.”
That made her the first liar of the day. He had to remember that one.
As for his next clientele: whoo-wee, he had hit the goldmine. The femme appeared more somber than Aya, that fact he had thought impossible to believe. Her noggin was coated in a hideous hairy amalgam of blue and pink, that was styled so that her cheerless mug could be seen by all. The mutt could tell solely based on Stocking’s fashion sense alone that this was going to be amazing.
To start, he got a kick out of how eager she was to take nourishment. If that forced him to stifle a giggle, then what happened next nearly brought him to tears. The fallen angel was on the brink of going through the five stages of grief throughout the situation. He didn’t even know who this Gordon Ramsey was, and he found it utterly hilarious. First, there was denial, as she continued chewing her portion despite evidently hating it, followed by anger, depression, and acceptance in that glorious reaction/rant (the only stage missing was bargaining). Barely keeping it together, the hound would address Stocking’s issue next. ”No need ta’ bust my chops, sugar, ‘s just pie,” he’d quip innocently, ”it can’t be that bad if Ms. Pink over here enjoys it”.
Stocking was now the most honest one here.
Disappointment is what gushed through him as his final visitor spoke, revealing that he would rather protect the sick than join them. ”Tsk tsk, medic-boy,” he’d beer tauntingly at Malphas, ”you’re certainly missin’ out. It’s good pie.”