Shorts today, as usual, loose fitting around the thigh and hem, black eyelet cotton, and a soft lilac colored tank top that fit like a second skin. Sing-song crooning of Les's name from the suddenly there redneck. And another sing-song crooning of Mav's name as well. Greetings, they were awesome.
" 'M doin' damn good." She replied to the question tossed her way with a lazy wink from Mav. Smiles and cheer and warmth and good vibes, all tangled together around and together in the little-ish blonde. Mischief in her eyes, though that bled away into confusion laced with worry when she caught sight of a mangled plushie behind the bar. Hadn't quite made it to the trash can it seemed.
"Poor little guy." Just, excuse her while she fetched the teddy mouse-bear thing. Needed surgery, and some re-stuffing. Thorn's a soft touch yes.
Also, Mav whistled, she slapped herself on the arse. hard for it. Was a thing she does, seriously.
While Mav and Lesinda both went into some deeper contemplation of the secrets of the multiverse, Thorn made a better study of the damage done to the plush critter. "Well, since y're back here I'm pretty damn sure no little one's gonna be missin' you. Not less some massive dick-drip decided t' steal y'. Which I kinda doubt. Y're a little, rustic I think." Yes, carrying on a one sided conversation with a damaged toy. Rummaging through drawers until she could find needle and thread. The redneck was soon enough settled on a bar stool, and with considerable skill and care, closing the gaping wound. "Y' could use a little sprucin' I think. Least a bath, 's no tellin' where y've been, 'r whatcha were sittin' in down there."
Mav's comment upon not knowing that the redneck enjoyed toys, or dolls had her chuckling and shaking her head slowly. "Lost things, broken things. Dolls, they're mos'ly freakin' creepy little empty eyed dead children, or dead tiny women, creep me straight the fug out." She shuddered then, and not all of it an affectation.
"Toys, I don' go all wild 'bout 'em 'r totally girly, but they're cool." Wicked mirth flashed in her eyes and smile when she cut it Mav's way.
"Worst thing a person c'n do is grow all the way up. Run for the fun of it, jump off'a swings when they're at their highest arc, play tag, 'r hide-n-seek. Have fun, an' don' let an'one tell y' y're too old f'r it, 'cause y' only are if you decide you are." Not a rant, and definitely not something she meant as words to live by, just a touch of advice offered tainted by her opinion and beliefs.
"This little guy here," indicated the plushie she was closing up. "He'll wind up goin' to some little one who likely doesn't have someone to tell their secrets to, t' bury their face in when they're scared 'r shy. He'll wind up someone's friend, when they need one the most." Thorn, the redneck, was a lot more than she encouraged other people to believe.
Then she shrugged and chuckled. "Besides, I don' really like waste."
With the last, tidy and neat stitch secured, knotted, and sewn under to hide it, she bit the thread to break it. Settled the mouse plush on the bar long enough to put her tools away once more.
And though she enjoyed the conversation she shared with Mav and Les, and later the bits that Cianan and Senna arrived for, she kept the lost mouse close to her elbow. And when she left, she took him along for the ride.
She knew someone, down by the docks, that just might be able to give this fellow a solid home. A solid place.
" 'M doin' damn good." She replied to the question tossed her way with a lazy wink from Mav. Smiles and cheer and warmth and good vibes, all tangled together around and together in the little-ish blonde. Mischief in her eyes, though that bled away into confusion laced with worry when she caught sight of a mangled plushie behind the bar. Hadn't quite made it to the trash can it seemed.
"Poor little guy." Just, excuse her while she fetched the teddy mouse-bear thing. Needed surgery, and some re-stuffing. Thorn's a soft touch yes.
Also, Mav whistled, she slapped herself on the arse. hard for it. Was a thing she does, seriously.
While Mav and Lesinda both went into some deeper contemplation of the secrets of the multiverse, Thorn made a better study of the damage done to the plush critter. "Well, since y're back here I'm pretty damn sure no little one's gonna be missin' you. Not less some massive dick-drip decided t' steal y'. Which I kinda doubt. Y're a little, rustic I think." Yes, carrying on a one sided conversation with a damaged toy. Rummaging through drawers until she could find needle and thread. The redneck was soon enough settled on a bar stool, and with considerable skill and care, closing the gaping wound. "Y' could use a little sprucin' I think. Least a bath, 's no tellin' where y've been, 'r whatcha were sittin' in down there."
Mav's comment upon not knowing that the redneck enjoyed toys, or dolls had her chuckling and shaking her head slowly. "Lost things, broken things. Dolls, they're mos'ly freakin' creepy little empty eyed dead children, or dead tiny women, creep me straight the fug out." She shuddered then, and not all of it an affectation.
"Toys, I don' go all wild 'bout 'em 'r totally girly, but they're cool." Wicked mirth flashed in her eyes and smile when she cut it Mav's way.
"Worst thing a person c'n do is grow all the way up. Run for the fun of it, jump off'a swings when they're at their highest arc, play tag, 'r hide-n-seek. Have fun, an' don' let an'one tell y' y're too old f'r it, 'cause y' only are if you decide you are." Not a rant, and definitely not something she meant as words to live by, just a touch of advice offered tainted by her opinion and beliefs.
"This little guy here," indicated the plushie she was closing up. "He'll wind up goin' to some little one who likely doesn't have someone to tell their secrets to, t' bury their face in when they're scared 'r shy. He'll wind up someone's friend, when they need one the most." Thorn, the redneck, was a lot more than she encouraged other people to believe.
Then she shrugged and chuckled. "Besides, I don' really like waste."
With the last, tidy and neat stitch secured, knotted, and sewn under to hide it, she bit the thread to break it. Settled the mouse plush on the bar long enough to put her tools away once more.
And though she enjoyed the conversation she shared with Mav and Les, and later the bits that Cianan and Senna arrived for, she kept the lost mouse close to her elbow. And when she left, she took him along for the ride.
She knew someone, down by the docks, that just might be able to give this fellow a solid home. A solid place.