Blue's in the back, straightening up, when someone says, distinctly, What the fuck.
It's not the sort of rude what the fuck of a customer waiting for service, but a sort of stunned, suspicious exclamation, as if someone had walked in here expecting a clothes shop and gotten a cat cafe instead. Not that she hasn't gotten her fair share of those too, but the more pressing point is:
"We're not open," she says, coming to the doorway between the kitchen and the front and leaning on it, brow furrowed at the young man. He's tall, brown-skinned with light, quick eyes and dark tattoos. Ronan-like, in ways, sharp at the edges: her first impression of him strikes closer to her heart than she'd like because of it. Maybe younger than Ronan. Than the last Ronan she saw.
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It's not the sort of rude what the fuck of a customer waiting for service, but a sort of stunned, suspicious exclamation, as if someone had walked in here expecting a clothes shop and gotten a cat cafe instead. Not that she hasn't gotten her fair share of those too, but the more pressing point is:
"We're not open," she says, coming to the doorway between the kitchen and the front and leaning on it, brow furrowed at the young man. He's tall, brown-skinned with light, quick eyes and dark tattoos. Ronan-like, in ways, sharp at the edges: her first impression of him strikes closer to her heart than she'd like because of it. Maybe younger than Ronan. Than the last Ronan she saw.
Blue has no idea who he is.
"How did you get in here?"