#dorian03

The mall is brilliant and busy. It reminds him of home, just a little. Not enough to hurt more than a distant prick of nostalgia for the golden streets and arcades of Cloudbank.

Asher doesn’t have much of an interest in shopping right now, especially considering his limited income, but acting like he is shopping makes him feel a little more normal. He’d always liked this, the wandering and browsing and daydreaming. It’s fun with company, but alone is fine too. He can deal with being alone in a place like this.

There’s a stand in a wide hall selling freshly baked pretzels. The smell attracts his cat immediately, and before he can blink she’s whisked away between the legs of other shoppers. Asher sighs -- back at it again with Estrellita Kendrell -- and trails along, trying to keep track of the end of her tail in the thickening crowd.

Soon he needs to elbow his way gently through the line, muttering apologies as he makes his way to where his cat has stationed herself. She’s sitting primly by the wall of the stand, nose lifted, perhaps waiting to be noticed and possibly fed.

“I’ll just buy one if you want it so badly,” Asher says to her. “But we need to go to the back of the line.”

She resists, but he manages to scoop her up and soothe her impatience with petting. They move to the end of the line to wait patiently like the good citizens they are, with Estrellita struggling only occasionally. Her tail flicks with irritation, brushing onto the arm of the next person in line. Asher draws her closer to him. “Sorry--”

The person turns and they’re familiar. The first thing that comes to mind is that first urgent mouthful of red wine, the taste welcome and sharp. “Oh. Dorian?”