#*threads ( lark )

“ MOTHER FUCKER !” those vocal chords don’t get much use. The result is like the screech a misstroken bow upon a violin. Really Lark is just trying out some noises. Paloma DID explain what swearing was, Lark DID know that this particular utterance was very rude, and she was purposefully flinging it at a guy who let his dog poop on the sidewalk and didn’t pick it up. He wouldn’t see her though, she’s sitting by a tree, and if she stays still enough it was unlikely anyone would see her unless they were near enough.

It’s not often someone sees her when she takes candy from the convenience store. The clerk certainly doesn’t. Lark has been able to sneak in the back door, which he keeps open just a crack, and carefully drag sacks of her favourite gummy candy off the rack and into her little hands time and time again. Even when there are people in the shop. When she lays makes accidental eye contact with a PARTICULAR set of eyes, Lark goes a little bug eyed in surprise and squeaks. Already having secured her candy, she darts back the way she came, fleeing out the back door and finding a spot to be still. She goes unnoticed when she’s very still, not quite like a lizard, more like normal people just don’t seem to register her at all. Thinking herself to be in the clear Lark lifts her pack of candy slowly, carefully ripping off a corner, and sticks a sour gummy key in her mouth. 

That’s why she’s been able to sit in this chair and eat two packages of red vines without anyone approaching her (because you need to pay for things in stores, usually). In fact, Lark perceives this new person, who is not much older than her, and she does not consider them to be a threat. She has not been noticed, but she could change that. Lark reaches out with the plastic of her red vines crinkling. “Want?” she offers.