[ Actually, now that he thinks about it, Yuri may have mentioned it on that strange ragged morning after the carnival, while Flynn was trying to gather up the edge of his thoughts and put them into something like order. He'd forgotten all about that. Time had moved so strangely that day.
Well. He won't be so careless again. With a huff, Flynn crosses the room to grab for his keys. ]
You'd make a pretty good baker. That cake you sent me the other day—was that yours?
Yeah. [ Why is his face hot? It was just a cake. But... he was pretty proud of it. He can't help but think that if Flynn was a familiar, he would be a cute dog ] Been working on... decorating stuff.
Uh, I dunno. Picked it up. [ As usual, he's great at learning by watching, and watched the spirits doing it. He's worked there for over a month now, so he's picked up a thing or two ] It's not a big deal.
[ Flynn insists quietly. He remembers the first time Yuri made something like that, fried dough dusted in sugar and little flowers, what an impression it had made. Yuri's always been like that: a little more impressive than he lets on, a little more concerned with how things turn out than he'd like everyone to believe.
It's one of Flynn's favorite things about him. That care runs deep, through everything he does. ]
I'll walk back to the shop with you, if you'd like to finish them.
You don't have to do that. [ He says it automatically, like he didn't just run here when Flynn said he was in trouble. He should probably go back, the cakes should be at least mostly cool now.
He pushes off the wall to head to the door, waving at Flynn as he goes, even if some part of him wants to stay, that part is dangerous ]
[ Flynn should probably spend more time alone. He should probably think about this unstoppable impulse to stick to Yuri's side, should probably not just follow him around or try to make him stay, but that same urgent need to not let him just walk away bubbles up and Flynn doesn't fight it.
Instead, he falls into step with Yuri, letting his key dangle idly from one finger. ]
[ Yuri should probably do something about this, but he can't ignore how he feels better with Flynn by his side. More settled, steadier, and if Flynn wants to come, well, it's a free world. Probably. ]
There's this used furniture place in town. It has some good stuff. [ Not that he has any space for it in his treehouse, but you know. A guy can dream ]
Gram. I haven't really checked out the other ones... [ Which he probably should. It's weird how quickly he fell back into old habits, just hanging out around the place he showed up ] Who cares what the spirits on the train think? C'mon, Flynn.
[ Some kind of what, Flynn? Is it stupid to worry about what random spirits on the train think about his actions? He's spent so long under scrutiny, with everything up for debate—the tone of his voice, his posture, his food choices—it feels strange to think that they really might not care.
But...
As they walk out the door and Flynn locks it behind himself, it settles in. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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[ Actually, now that he thinks about it, Yuri may have mentioned it on that strange ragged morning after the carnival, while Flynn was trying to gather up the edge of his thoughts and put them into something like order. He'd forgotten all about that. Time had moved so strangely that day.
Well. He won't be so careless again. With a huff, Flynn crosses the room to grab for his keys. ]
You'd make a pretty good baker. That cake you sent me the other day—was that yours?
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It was really good! Where did you learn to decorate like that?
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[ Flynn insists quietly. He remembers the first time Yuri made something like that, fried dough dusted in sugar and little flowers, what an impression it had made. Yuri's always been like that: a little more impressive than he lets on, a little more concerned with how things turn out than he'd like everyone to believe.
It's one of Flynn's favorite things about him. That care runs deep, through everything he does. ]
I'll walk back to the shop with you, if you'd like to finish them.
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He pushes off the wall to head to the door, waving at Flynn as he goes, even if some part of him wants to stay, that part is dangerous ]
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[ Flynn should probably spend more time alone. He should probably think about this unstoppable impulse to stick to Yuri's side, should probably not just follow him around or try to make him stay, but that same urgent need to not let him just walk away bubbles up and Flynn doesn't fight it.
Instead, he falls into step with Yuri, letting his key dangle idly from one finger. ]
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There's this used furniture place in town. It has some good stuff. [ Not that he has any space for it in his treehouse, but you know. A guy can dream ]
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Which town? There are a lot of towns around here, and I'm not sure we won't get weird looks for carrying a bunch of stools on the train.
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[ Some kind of what, Flynn? Is it stupid to worry about what random spirits on the train think about his actions? He's spent so long under scrutiny, with everything up for debate—the tone of his voice, his posture, his food choices—it feels strange to think that they really might not care.
But...
As they walk out the door and Flynn locks it behind himself, it settles in. ]
Maybe you're right.