Well, three's company or something of that sort, eh? You glance back over your shoulder at the sound of the Girl (oh, you definitely have a problem with her name), narrowing your eyes and huffing, the tall stranger already forgotten. "Watch yer tongue, kid, or you'll be th'one takin' a lickin'." There's no real threat behind the words, just the constant irritation of the (not) very old with the (also not) very young. Damn impertinent youths.
Anyway. The tree, and the stranger who- surprise surprise - is tall as a palm and twice as gaudy. If you knew what growth hormones were you'd swear all these outlanders were on them. Hand shoved deep inside your pockets, you give a little shrug. "Sure, if y'wanna be laughed at while yer fucked." Everybody's got a thing. Maybe this is his.
Turning back to she-who-must-not-be-named, you jerk your chin in the direction of the tree. "If yer so concerned 'bout us offendin' it, why don' you go first? Show us how it's done."
Zephyr
you can be the ripest, juciest peach in the world
and there's still going to be someone who hates peaches
and there's still going to be someone who hates peaches
