“Models?” That stops Kirsch cold and draws him from his daydream. It’s not the sort of question one would expect on a dreary afternoon, let alone in Fibonacchi, of all places. And not posed to him, halfway home, a bag of groceries dangling from his arm; the least beautiful person in sweatpants. Maybe it’s the hair? But here he is, being accosted by a random woman on the street - her eyes bright and a little on the wild side.
At the very least, he’s not the only one being held up; someone else has been sideswiped alongside him: another blonde, looking far more upset over the whole thing then Kirsch.
“No, I fear I’ve never done such a thing.” He’s not going to speak for the other man, but the look on his face says enough: equally parts no and no thank you and never in his entire life.
“Well, would both of your lovely lads like to be models?”
Oh dear.
@fateascent