Amber walked them towards a curved, wood bench, the kind old movies featured in park scenes. She sat down on it, setting her milkshake to the side so that her fingers wouldn't freeze off holding it; perhaps it had not been the wisest choice of drink for the evening. But she never ate frozen sweets anymore, and its bubblegum pink allure was too strong to resist. "I will file your suggestions for future reference." Very future, perhaps-- she might not have the stomach for any more sugar-based foods, whether they were covering Eric or not.
She took a break from her hotdog to watch him; she'd never seen him dig into food with such relish. Admittedly, she'd only ever seen him eat a bagel and kabob he'd ordered more or less by accident, but not even the high-quality wines or the beer had made him this excited. He sped through the bites as if he couldn't wait for the next one, barely chewing. "With my feminine wiles, of course."
Amber ate more of her hotdog, the reddish-pink sausage peeking through the chewy white bun no better than the cheapest available in the supermarket. And she didn't even want to think of what disgusting innards had gone into the sausage itself, assuming that all of it was remotely organic. So delicious, though, bringing with it a flavor of nostalgia. Hotdogs had been her mom’s foolproof method of shutting up her and brother’s complaints of hunger without dealing with individual finicky preferences. Amber got through the hotdog almost as quickly as Eric, in part to take in that heat. The thin, slippery napkins around it assured that none would spill out and down; as for her mouth, she wiped at it frequently to make sure any traces of sauce that made its way on to her face were eliminated at once.
A group of girls, perhaps sisters, passed in front of them, sharing a large box of popcorn. Just as much fell onto the ground as went into their mouths. They had an animal theme going on: a black cat, her tail bent at an unnatural angle, a leopard, and what might have been an owl. It made her think of what costumes she herself had worn. "One Halloween I went as Queen of the Universe," she told Eric, certain he'd get a kick out of that. "How about you?"
no subject
She took a break from her hotdog to watch him; she'd never seen him dig into food with such relish. Admittedly, she'd only ever seen him eat a bagel and kabob he'd ordered more or less by accident, but not even the high-quality wines or the beer had made him this excited. He sped through the bites as if he couldn't wait for the next one, barely chewing. "With my feminine wiles, of course."
Amber ate more of her hotdog, the reddish-pink sausage peeking through the chewy white bun no better than the cheapest available in the supermarket. And she didn't even want to think of what disgusting innards had gone into the sausage itself, assuming that all of it was remotely organic. So delicious, though, bringing with it a flavor of nostalgia. Hotdogs had been her mom’s foolproof method of shutting up her and brother’s complaints of hunger without dealing with individual finicky preferences. Amber got through the hotdog almost as quickly as Eric, in part to take in that heat. The thin, slippery napkins around it assured that none would spill out and down; as for her mouth, she wiped at it frequently to make sure any traces of sauce that made its way on to her face were eliminated at once.
A group of girls, perhaps sisters, passed in front of them, sharing a large box of popcorn. Just as much fell onto the ground as went into their mouths. They had an animal theme going on: a black cat, her tail bent at an unnatural angle, a leopard, and what might have been an owl. It made her think of what costumes she herself had worn. "One Halloween I went as Queen of the Universe," she told Eric, certain he'd get a kick out of that. "How about you?"