You’re my pancakes Daddy. ♥
Ruby's green gaze was locked onto the lacing grids of his hi-top, high-soled red sneakers while he wrung his hands inside of his hoodie's sole pocket -- the ensemble, combined with boot-cut jeans whose hems bunched up above his ankle did very little to detract from his childish appearance. He shifted for the nth time in the booth seat he'd chosen for its view of the restaurant's entrance and set his sole against the table's center support, pushing himself back and staring toward the door as he worried his bottom lip. Although he had the classic 'I'm waiting for someone,' excuse at the ready, none of the IHOP's staff had come to his table to retrieve his order, or even bring any water. He was getting kind of thirsty, actually, but didn't possess the presence necessary to bring a server to him without actively attracting attention to himself. For that-- he was simply too nervous and shy.
He hadn't exactly let the Ostrich in on the fact of his current financial state, so he hoped the other wouldn't mind too much for being made to pay.
He'd also never met another member of the group in person before; he was unsure of what sort of impression he should be trying to make, if any. If there was a standard, tiny neurotic country bumpkin probably wasn't anywhere near it.
So, naturally, he nearly runs when a young man in a full suit walks into the damn chain pancake house with an expectant air about him; except his stomach is starting to hurt from hunger, so he stays put.
