ᴋɪɴɢ's ʀɪɢʜᴛ ʜᴀɴᴅ. 🧀

 Over the lips, past the gums, soon the darkness would be inside him.

❝ I see now, Ansem, Seeker of Darkness™, the only way to truly enjoy chocolate is for it to be dark. ❞

While the loud pop that followed the mouse emerging from the box should've been enough to catch the two of them by surprise— (Oh my Gosh— it's an ALIEN mouse?!) —it was the mouse talking what did it for Pizzelle. Alas, with how fast everything went— " W-wait— THE GLASS!! "

—BONK! And a gasp. " Oh no! " Alongside Rosette's exclamation of worry, all Pizzelle could do was wince. He didn't have time to reflect on the situation further, much less do anything to prevent the flying mouse from shooting straight for the parlor's large glass doors like a bird would a closed window. " I'll grab the first-aid kit— please make sure he's okay, hun! "

If the average three-year-old child needed an adult's help to push it open, a mouse-sized mouse wasn't going to accomplish anything other than leaving a literal mark.

...At least— (It's an alien mouse, thank Goodness.) —something good was coming out from the magical critter's sudden outburst. Cue a sigh. " Well— " The other was likely simply dazed, so the candy maker didn't approach. Just to prevent another freak out and run in with the door. Instead, he answered: " —this is our ice cream parlor, in... Earth, and— . " A pause. Understandable, because he wasn't there to witness it, he had to turn his head toward the back of the shop and rise his voice a bit. " Uh, Rosette? Where did you find him? Again? "

She wasn't visible from the front of the counter— " By the road! " —but a lot of rummaging could be heard. Someone really needed to tidy up that workshop.

" Okay, that's— that's fair. " Back to the mouse. " You... heard her, I hope. "

—in all his years of "flight practice", he had never been so careless as to slam his face directly into a closed door but there was a first time for everything.

Float fell down on his face just as hard after the door slam, which seemed to end his floating as he now obeyed gravity like any other creature.

❝ —Earth... , ice cream parlor? ❞ Float said, picking his head up off the ground.

Of course he was back on earth, these 2 were humans.

Ever since being turned into a cat Worth had been struggling with his baser instincts. He'd always been a little impulsive, a little more focused on the bottom half of Maslow's hierarchy, and apparently that had translated over into a healthy hunting instinct when it came to bugs and birds and small mammals.

Like mice.

But a couple of unfortunate accidents had motivated him to go "cold turkey" and completely abstain from prowling around the city looking for something to chase around. And he'd been doing really good the last few weeks!

... But he'd never really been able to quit smoking either, and catching sight of the little blue mouse made his brain buzz and his paws flex. He WANTED TO all of a sudden again, but wouldn't-- really, actually shouldn't because as far as he could tell this particular mouse was special. (Regular city mice didn't usually wear dapper little outfits with bow ties!)

But he could still crouch down a bit closer to the tiny guy, tail high and hooked at the end, claws very CAREFULLY put away. There was still a good bit of mischievous glee in his grin, but he could hardly help that.

"Well lookie 'ere... Must be my DoorDash order! Hope they didn't forget th' CHEESE this time!"

He's kidding, he's kidding!

❝ .... ❞ Float guessed he was due for a non-peaceful cat, —they can't all be like Pawbert.

Worth's barely maintained self-control was written all over his face.

❝ I don't know what DoorDash is. ❞ Float said, looking up towards the strange cat-man.

❝ .... ❞ Why would he run? No felines in Tropolis ever chased him, felines were his neighbors, his friends even.

 —as personable as you can get with neighbors from an ivory tower.

˚ .˚ 🐾❄️ ˖ ˚ 𓂂 . ────  That insignificant amount of praise, for doing nothing but still still for a few minutes, really shouldn't bring a stupid grin to Pawbert's face the way it did but there it was. And it inspires him to sit up a little straighter, a proud expression sitting on his face.

Float was on the home stretch now, he had to make some last minute edits, erasing things like Pawbert's paws (truly an unforgivable war crime) as they didn't make sense given how close the composition of his sketch leaned into Pawbert's head and shoulders as it's focal point.

❝ Done! ❞ The mouse presented his picture of Pawbert's likeness on his tiny notepad.

❝ You're doing amazing sweetie! ❞ —said Float, replying to Pawbert without looking at him as the mouse continued to draw.

A Freudian slip and a double entendre seemed to be fusing together without the speaker (Float) even noticing. Pawbert's question only triggered it.

❝ Give me 2 more minutes, I promise I'll make it worth your while! ❞

Like how a magician never reveals his secrets, an artist often would sooner swallow their own pencil than reveal the artistic process in the middle of it's production.

˚ .˚ 🐾❄️ ˖ ˚ 𓂂 . ────   Head tilts curiously at request, and an ear flicks as he considers it. "Really?" He ponders it for a moment longer, it's not like he has anything else to do.

 ❝ Wouldn't dream of it! ~❤️ ❞