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Magic Box, Monday.

Surreal... really didn't want to be at work today. For Reasons.

And if she kept glancing towards the door as if expecting it to open, well. Reasons.

Sometimes being responsible sucked.

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If you don't need the witch on-duty.

She's there, just twitchy.

There was at least one guaranteed visitor today, though she usually wasn't carrying a bottle that looked like a bunch of drunken squirrels armed with a bedazzler had tried to decorate it (it looked that way because they had). "Surreal."

"Cara." Surreal's lips quirked in amusement. "What in Hell is that sparkly thing?"

"Rum, supposedly, from the squirrels." Cara plunked the bottle down on the counter so Surreal could look at it in all its sparkly, plastic jewelled glory.

Or as well as she could look at it with Cara also leaning over the counter to kiss her.

It wasn't as if getting kissed by Cara was a great hardship.

"Did they make you a trophy out of the rum?" she laughed between kisses. "How kind."

"They gave it to me when I went in this morning," Cara said, smoothing her hands up and along Surreal's arms. "They were all weird and clingy today."

Because there was nothing at all clingy about all the kissing and touching Cara was doing right now.

"They'll miss your brand of humor and being threatened on a weekly basis?" she suggested, and Surreal wasn't going to point out the clinging. She was too busy enjoying the attention. "A good threat is an artfom."

Attention that, oddly enough, Cara was more than happy to provide. "If only it was one more people appreciated," she said, grinning. "Instead of getting upset."

Which if she was going to be fair, was one of the points of a threat in the first place.

"You say that like I don't appreciate you," Surreal laughed, rolling her eyes. "Stop standing on the other side of the counter like you're a wayward customer. I'm not brewing anything poisonous back here today."

Yet.

[sorry, taken out by migraine.]

Most people would have walked around the counter rather than vaulted over it, Cara. Show-off.

"Maybe I just didn't want to presume," she said, hooking her fingers in Surreal's belt. Because she was shy and retiring like that.

"Because you care so much about what other people think of you," Surreal agreed dryly. "I noticed."

"I don't." Other people tended to be fools ~~and she was perfectly capable of judging herself much more harshly anyway~~."But then you're not people."

Shut up. That was not an admission of anything. At all.

"I'm not people, I'm a witch," Surreal teased/agreed, reaching over to pat Cara on the head. "And I'm very glad you noticed, too."

Cara's attempt at a vaguely affronted glare at having her head patted might have been more effective if she wasn't also leaning into the contact. "It would be hard not to," she said, making a very obvious show of looking Surreal over. "You're very noticeable."

"I am one of the only students that doesn't look like she's spent her entire life living underground and never seeing the sun," she deadpanned, raising an eyebrow. "You're all so pale."

"I think the pointed ears help, too."

"A little," Cara agreed dryly, taking that as an invitation to lean in to nuzzle said pointy ears. She wanted to protest she wasn't that pale, but unfortunately she didn't have Kahlan handy as an example of someone even paler. "But they're hardly the only thing that makes you stand out."

"Is this your 'subtle' way of saying, 'Surreal, close the store and come back to bed?'" she asked. "Because it's working."

"Only if you're not going to get in trouble for it," Cara said. Because responsibilities were important. Or something.

Her sincerity may have been lacking, though, considering she was still nibbling on Surreal's earlobe.

"You are the type of girl my mother warned me about," Surreal sighed, running her fingers down Cara's arm. "Sugar, I run the place now. And while it's bad business to close early without notice, I think I can manage this time."

Considering most parental warnings she'd been the subject of tended to be the tragically inaccurate 'be good or the Mord'Sith will come to take you away', Cara vastly preferred this kind instead.

"I think it'd be even worse business if we stayed here," she murmured, hands on Surreal's hips. What? This only would have been playing dirty if Surreal had wanted to keep working. "Or at least bring in the wrong kind of customer."

On a Monday to keep the OCD from falling out.

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Magic Box, Monday.

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OOC