i reached back to scratch my arse and found a banana peel in my pocket

her gaze, a meteoric marriage between sea and sunflash, focused intently on Raptor, awaiting his opinion regarding her observations. these were topics that she was direly passionate about and underlying first impressions, it was a pivotal moment for the two of them; a determination of whether father and daughter were singing from the same song sheet, or from the same choir hall, even! she balanced patiently on the balls of her toes, bunching her shoulders up to her pricked ears and looking as if she were about to wet her pants with anticipation.

to her delight, he had meaningful feedback prepared. finally, someone was asking good questions—the legit questions. it was oh, she confirmed with an agreeable nod. ”uh-huh!” the bob of her head reminiscent of a bulldog bobblehead, ever faithful to the dashboard of a well-loved jeep. interest in anything mother-related was lost to the wind completely by this point, though the girl cast a glance over her shoulder after a moment to make certain the mobile milk bar was still present for their conference. 

when he leaned in she squealed ticklishly as his whiskers brushed her, head shying away from the loom of his nose with a stifled giggle. her tail was activated at "full rudder", out of sync with the beat of his own but matching its tempo with eagerness.

gesturing to himself in silent question, Raptor was making an commendable effort to interpret the child's babble. the fact that he could even comprehend a single word from the mountain of nonsense gushing forth was admirable. Tier wriggled under his chin, belly-flopping on his paws with an amused screechy giggle. ”noooo!” her sides inflated and deflated with a mighty heave-ho. what a jester he was, or maybe a fool, for thinking himself a fish! this guy.

even though her father was in the middle of requesting some pretty essential details from Wylla about the fruit of their loins, the fruit herself thought it was a request worth overiding as she zoomed out to twirl in the space between with an interruptive bleat: ”snow f’iss? snow nuh f’iss, n go fin isses?!” that was an inquiry put through a paper shredder and presented to the teacher, and it was a proposal she made with a pleading gaze that could burn proper holes in Wylla's face.