Clothing Exchange
@cryptid-killjoy
Pierre had arrived first, hoping to smooth things over with Figaro before Scout would get there. It was majorly awkward because when the door opened the first thing that happened was two birds flying out, and started to pick at his hair, while Figaro just stood there with a bowl of Cap’n Crunch, crunching away. “Fuck, call off your cavalry!” He said, trying to swat them away. They looked like pigeons. Ugly, common things.
“They’re just trying to build a nest,” Figaro said, leaning against the door frame, watching all of this in amusement. “Guess your hair is the perfect thing to do it with, Peter. What are you even doing here?”
“It’s Pierre,” He said, and gave up with a humph. The birds sat on top of his head, their little claws digging into his once perfectly conditioned scalp. “Okay, so I might have told Scout that I’d meet her here so we can go through your closet together.”
“Oh, Scout, why didn’t you say so?” Figaro gave a whistle and the birds few off, taking a couple of strands of hair with them, over to a nearby tree. “Guess you can come in then. How’s the nose doing, by the way?”
“What, after you hit it or after Chip?” Pierre said, trying to fix his appearance while stepping inside of the toymaker’s house. God, it was creepy in here. How did anyone stand it? Puppets with their eyes all seeming to face him at once. “It’s better now, thanks for asking.”
“Ahh - Chip. Always liked that guy,” Figaro chuckled. “Want some Cap’n Crunch while we wait?”
“I’m good, thanks.” Pierre said, going in front of the first mirror that he found. And that’s how Scout would find him, when Figaro let her in not too much later. “What? How come she doesn’t get attacked by birds?”
“Less of a nest I guess,” Figaro would shrug. “How’s it going, Scout?”