Ickle Baby Crush
Zonpae had found many problems with having tiny feet throughout her life. Soreness from standing short periods of time, difficulty grasping tough terrain, free reign over the kiddy section of the shoe store --- well, that wasn’t quite as much of an issue. Their was but one that constantly left her perplexed.
Untoward intent. When one’s feet are smaller than the average troll’s hand, cute aggression became an observable phenomenon. Not just, oh, one in five trolls were given a bad case of the happy shouts when in proximity of her beebee toebeans. No. More one in two trolls who laid eyes on her petite peetsies looked about ready to explode into questionable-intent confetti when her wee bappers went bop-bop-bop-bop across the pristine flooring of the Clumsy Kitten.
And while undoubtedly a profitable asset in her chosen field, it also was a rather tiring truth. Not to mention one she herself could never begin to fully grasp. It was like going to a zoo to see the baby bunnies and finding a bowl of maggots. They were nothing but bad memories and a conduit for the grossness of the world to her.
The oliveblood lifted one foot lazy on the chair across from her, leaning back in her own. The club’s main showroom was mostly empty, with a few stragglers still begging at the bar or strewn across multiple sequined seats in a booze-induced stooper. A Booper, as she liked to call it. One of the many terms she’d coined to make her job palatable.
There were also Spoops - the employees who were always ghosting about the place. Gribbers, the clients who maybe held on a little too tight. And of course, her favorite --- Hubband. He was responsible for at least a whole quarter of her ability to stomach coming to work.
Inhaling, exhaling on her vape. Big half-lidded eyes alight for the first time that day as she oggled him. A little smile sparkled with intent - only so untoward. Danzii was positively d r e a m y.
She gave herself at least fifteen minutes to gawk at him from across the room, trapped at his station for her eyes only --- before deciding it was time to unwind with a little conversation.
Putting her teeny peets to good use, she gently slid one off the chair and slowly, casually, kicked it over. T H U D. Big olive eyes still locked onto her target.
“Oh,” a slow, dry tone - just her voice, really, more play in it than usual really, “gosh. My bad. Oooo. Ah. Hm.” A point of a little finger at the chair knocked over on the ground. “Mr. Danzii Sir, hey, hi, hi you, can you?” Pointing more, “Can you come over and grab a chair? Maybe take a seat? With me over here?” A little chuckle, kind of amused by her own wit.
