#brokenwolf

Steam curls upward in soft spirals and the noodle stall hummed with quiet life; bowls clinking, broth simmering, and Sunday sits across from Ashveil with his hands wrapped loosely around his bowl of noddles, though the Nameless hadn’t yet taken a bite. His gaze lingered somewhere between the rising steam and the man before him, thoughtful in that careful, deliberate way of his.

“I must admit,” Sunday began, voice gentle but not uncertain, “I am not familiar with this noodle soup you praise so much. However, after your assistance today, please allow me to thank you with this meal.”

Sunday smiles faintly, the expression small but genuine. Following the old wolf's direction, Sunday lifts his chopsticks and spoon, tasting the broth. It's warm. Deep. Grounding in a way that made the world feel less sharp around the edges. The halovian let out a quiet breath, something easing in his shoulders.

“Oh. This is delicious.” Sunday's wings by his ears flutter once. 

After a couple bites, Sunday feels the opportune moment has come.  

“There is … something else I wish to ask you, Mr. Ashveil. Have you ever visited Penacony in the past before?” Sunday asked, the question carrying a quiet weight.

There’s  a  ghost  of  a  smirk  on  the  cowboy,  one  without  its  usual  sinister  malice.  Instead,  Boothill  feels  like  he's  finally  getting  through  the  detective.  Meeting  him  on  his  own  terms.  Which  is  …  cheap  hotdogs. 

See you all later

#brokenwolf

#fixedwheelbrewery #sodoffrain #saturdaynight #live