(Yoop!) When he returned, he would find the bed made. She was nowhere to be seen. *** He laughed lowly. "Nah. Not this time."
He frowned, looking around, rubbing his arm nervously. "...Nas?" * * * "I'm so glad," she murmured sleepily.
She wasn't there. She was on her way back to the house, whistling a tune to herself as Caly trailed her. *** He yawned. "Did you sleep well?"
Victor was working outside his house, setting up a fence for the mice. * * * "You can come back and visit," she said with a frown. "Right?"
Nascha was heading down the path, pulling up the sleeves of her brown sweater. She was wearing a mute yellow bandana on her head. She brightened when she saw him. "Hey Victor!" *** He nodded sleepily, looking down at her. "Of course."
He looked up at him. He was wearing a white tunic with the sleeves rolled up past his elbows. His dark hair flopped in front of his eyes and he squinted in confusion as she approached. "Hello..." * * * She gave him a grin, sitting up and looking around. "Are you hungry?"
She hesitated, noting his reaction. She stopped a small distance away, maybe looking a little nervous. "Er.. Is now a good time?" *** "I could eat," he said. "What do you have?"
He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand before straightening up, looking like he might have regained his composure slightly. "Any time is a good time for you, Nas. What's up?" * * * She considered this, looking down at him. "Oh! I know. Hold on a moment."
"Oh," he said, looking around for a moment before looking back at her. "Want to help with the pen?" * ** She clambered over him to get out of bed, hurrying over to the vaguely kitchen-esque area.
She was unsure, dropping her hands before finally nodding and approaching. "Okay." *** He watched her thoughtfully, leaning back on his hands.
He eyed her warily before gesturing to what he was working on. "I'm just hammering in the posts right now. Do you want to start braiding the rope?" * * * She returned minutes later with two, muffin-like pastries. "Here. Victor brought these for my first night here."
He went over to the side of the post, pulling out stripped tendrils. "Here. If you braid these, they should make a sturdy material..." * * * She sat next to him again, offering him one.
"Alright," she said, taking the strips and going to sit down. "I'll start." *** He took it. "Thanks."
He returned to his work. His back was to her, but her began hammering the post into the ground, swinging the head down over and over as he worked. *** She was quiet for a moment. “So... do you not like him?”
