[ success to both stories and mix-mixing (and a free powdery clap, he’ll be a mess after this is over— there must by a way to retaliate), falco brings over the floured pans read for pouring. the story has left a smile on his face, for sure, and what keeps it there is the prospect of an empty bowl to lick. yes, he’s giving paul his utmost attention as always, but not without a straying glance to said bowls to try and gauge out how much of it would be leftovers.
meanwhile, during all of that, it seems like confetti has woken up and quietly scouted anything within reach. a big bag of remaining flour? rummaged right through and leaving a trail of little paws and stubs everywhere he walked. he’s on his way to join the fun . . . but falco’s oblivious with his back turned. ]
They’re good stories— I’d read the books. [ if they were more stories than they were engraved history. the happiest of them was that neither really affected paul’s current place in the word that’s his, so to speak! ] Would they have stories of you, Paul?
[ it’d be . . . exciting, as the boy’s eyes say with a twinkle of fondness.
and maybe a gentle press of both floury hands on the older boy’s back. they’re even, he thinks. for now. ]
no subject
meanwhile, during all of that, it seems like confetti has woken up and quietly scouted anything within reach. a big bag of remaining flour? rummaged right through and leaving a trail of little paws and stubs everywhere he walked. he’s on his way to join the fun . . . but falco’s oblivious with his back turned. ]
They’re good stories— I’d read the books. [ if they were more stories than they were engraved history. the happiest of them was that neither really affected paul’s current place in the word that’s his, so to speak! ] Would they have stories of you, Paul?
[ it’d be . . . exciting, as the boy’s eyes say with a twinkle of fondness.
and maybe a gentle press of both floury hands on the older boy’s back. they’re even, he thinks. for now. ]