Infinite Consortium, Monday

[deathsmajesty]

Liliana was having trouble focusing on work today. Now, most people would assume that Liliana had trouble focusing on work every week, considering how little she cared about her business or the dragon that owned it, but they would be mistaken. Most weeks, Liliana didn't have trouble focusing on work, she just actively chose not to. An important difference.

This week, she'd half-intended to at least unpack and organize the packages that had arrived while she'd been flitting around off the island, but she just...wasn't really getting much done. Well. Work-wise, anyway. Ignis' cell phone was once again getting a barrage of messages while he was at class, but did that really count as work when it was art? And when she loved what she did?

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[chef_chocobro]

No, Ignis was not expecting any of the variety of different sorts of steamed buns that he'd made after class to even be thought about until well after he'd arrived at the store, not with all those messages that were waiting on his phone when he was finished, but he did have to thank the ease of the rice cooker for how lunchtime seemed to fall quite a bit earlier that day.

He did have to stop listening to those messages during his food prep, however, else he just may have wound up with nothing salvageable to bring Liliana at all.

And, of course, upon entering the shop and locking the door firmly behind him, he called out to find her, the sound of her name on his lips just a bit throatier than it might have typically have been.

[deathsmajesty]

He didn't have to wait long for a reply, either - nor did it come in words. There was a rustle of silk that announced her presence and suddenly there was a Liliana there, arms around him, mouth seeking his, even as she was pushing him up against the door.

She was hungry, dammit. Though not for steamed buns.

[chef_chocobro]

There was a joke in there, though, wasn't there? About at least some kind of buns?

But Ignis was not the one to make it. Nor was he one to really question if the alacrity in which that response came was a product of Liliana, like some predatory panther, having been prepared to pounce the moment he arrived. Perhaps he might have felt inclined to construct an idea of her path to him in his mind at some other time, but, at the moment, he was only focused on getting his arms around her as his back met the door, not with a surprised grunt at the impact, but with an eager groan for it, instead.

He barely even spared a thought for the containers of steamed buns he'd haplessly dropped for the sake of holding onto...

...oh. There was the joke about buns after all.

[deathsmajesty]

Perhaps, in the future, they would be able to start recognizing these weeks by Ignis not only dropping whatever food he'd made that day but also not caring that he had. If so, it would certainly only ever be a belated realization because now, much like last year, neither of them paid any attention of what had hit the ground, as it was not (yet) either clothing or bodies.

Though Liliana's hands were making quick work of belts and buttons, proving that she was quite eager to have clothing, at least, join the discarded buns on the ground with alacrity. Or perhaps not even that--open was so much faster and nearly as good as off.

She moaned into the kiss, breathing already coming in low gasps. "Back room," she said, during a regrettable break to breathe. "Table."

A laudable goal, if fully the length of the store away...