The icing on your cake, the cherry on the top
"Hmm..." He seems to consider it all quite seriously, schooling the sneak of his smile back into something neutral. "Months to even admit he had feelings?" His nose wrinkles at the very thought, clearly finding that timeline unacceptable. "Can't relate. Don't think it'd work between us." Maybe it'd taken Kaisel even longer to act on the admission, but he'd known it long before, and he had good (questionable) reasons to delay everything.
Fortunately he's got a much better pairing in mind for his ring, although he certainly hopes her answer comes with a lot less questions and a lot more speed when it actually matters. "What!?" he scoffs with all the incredulity of someone accused entirely correctly but not happy about it. "No no. I mean... yeah, yeah, but, that's kinda the whole point of breakfast wife. You also get to have some of my breakfast," he points out, not even sure if she wants any of it but still trying to pawn it off like it's something shiny enough to be worthy. Scrambling for something to sweeten up the deal, glancing around the table like literal syrup bottles could do the trick, he quickly tacks on. "And, you...get to veto one breakfast option every day."
As for the apology, her advice is about as expected, but no less helpful to hear it said. "I'll keep workshoping it," he promises. The comforting reach of her touch tells him more than just her smile or her voice, and some of the nerves that have unknowingly risen aroun the ordeal of needing to make this right are smoothed out by that small gesture. It's encouraging to think they could move past this into a night that doesn't go sideways. "Oh it is? So we're like bday twins kinda. Doesn't that mean we have a lot in common?" Which, could be argued, yes.
Before he can ask her more about it and rise from his position on the ground, the sudden pause in conversation and the terrifying presence behind him has his spine straightening on the spot. He doesn't need confirmation, not entirely, but he still casts a glance over his shoulder right before the waitress speaks. The look she offers up could wither crops. "Oh so sorry, be my guest," he murmurs, hastily clambering back into the bench and scooching excessively into Flora to better escape the server.
He leans back into the seat as she places each of their plates down with a punctuated catter of the dish on the table, clearly making a point with the sound and the brusque delivery. "Thank you!" he calls out after her retreat, which doesn't earn him so much as a pause, but he's alright with that. "I think she likes us," he confides to Flora with a short laugh, getting about to accurately dispersing the butterm syrup, and whipped cream over his pancakes before diving in for a bite. "So what would Danta like?"
Fortunately he's got a much better pairing in mind for his ring, although he certainly hopes her answer comes with a lot less questions and a lot more speed when it actually matters. "What!?" he scoffs with all the incredulity of someone accused entirely correctly but not happy about it. "No no. I mean... yeah, yeah, but, that's kinda the whole point of breakfast wife. You also get to have some of my breakfast," he points out, not even sure if she wants any of it but still trying to pawn it off like it's something shiny enough to be worthy. Scrambling for something to sweeten up the deal, glancing around the table like literal syrup bottles could do the trick, he quickly tacks on. "And, you...get to veto one breakfast option every day."
As for the apology, her advice is about as expected, but no less helpful to hear it said. "I'll keep workshoping it," he promises. The comforting reach of her touch tells him more than just her smile or her voice, and some of the nerves that have unknowingly risen aroun the ordeal of needing to make this right are smoothed out by that small gesture. It's encouraging to think they could move past this into a night that doesn't go sideways. "Oh it is? So we're like bday twins kinda. Doesn't that mean we have a lot in common?" Which, could be argued, yes.
Before he can ask her more about it and rise from his position on the ground, the sudden pause in conversation and the terrifying presence behind him has his spine straightening on the spot. He doesn't need confirmation, not entirely, but he still casts a glance over his shoulder right before the waitress speaks. The look she offers up could wither crops. "Oh so sorry, be my guest," he murmurs, hastily clambering back into the bench and scooching excessively into Flora to better escape the server.
He leans back into the seat as she places each of their plates down with a punctuated catter of the dish on the table, clearly making a point with the sound and the brusque delivery. "Thank you!" he calls out after her retreat, which doesn't earn him so much as a pause, but he's alright with that. "I think she likes us," he confides to Flora with a short laugh, getting about to accurately dispersing the butterm syrup, and whipped cream over his pancakes before diving in for a bite. "So what would Danta like?"
Kaisel
The perfect mix of Saturday night and the rest of your life
Wearing a watery blue, faded and stretched-out sparkling hair tie on his left wrist
