[ it was rare for falco to go off on his own during the next few days to weeks following the incident— certainly, the attention that cassandra would offer was ravenously attached to and possibly the most time he's come to spend with her. helping to make food, fix the rooms, the beds, other domestic errands around the house and so on, falco was a new helper up to even wanting to share findings like he would to his friends, like showing her some books from the library. turns out: cassandra will probably know by now that he leans heavily toward . . . romance instead of rowdy superhero comic books.
but all chicks must fly off on their own one day, or at least start messing around with the branches for practice alone. falco knew his surrogate mother had her own time to spend and others she'd like to see— and hogging it all didn't seem or even was remotely fair just because he wanted to. he was aware enough to wean himself from her company and compel himself to bundle up, hide his face and go out to do something. so focused on actually doing that had kept him oblivious to followers, which brings him to his startled surprise when she catches at him staring at the wham-o bird box in his hands. he nearly jolts, actually, almost thinking it's another robbie clerk that wants to supervise him or something and talk about their OH BOY HOWDY DAY.
the washing relief is instant in his eyes when he realizes that wasn't their case, and if he could smile, he would. he could feel his lips tense as the remaining muscle tries to pull back and makes it all uncomfortable— but luckily, it's all hidden underneath his scarf. she doesn't have to see it. his greeting comes as a surprised hum at first and a tight mouthed: miss cassandra!
he's been refraining from talking, becoming more shy than she remembers meeting him. but for her, he makes a gallant effort. as he puts the box back on its shelf, he speaks, muffled under woolly fabric and tense lips: ]
I just wanted to look around. 've never been here, [ disjointed thoughts, a point at the shelf ] it's a cool bird, [ now he just looks stupidly happy and excited to see her, so much that his wording seems ditsy. ] what're you doing here?
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but all chicks must fly off on their own one day, or at least start messing around with the branches for practice alone. falco knew his surrogate mother had her own time to spend and others she'd like to see— and hogging it all didn't seem or even was remotely fair just because he wanted to. he was aware enough to wean himself from her company and compel himself to bundle up, hide his face and go out to do something. so focused on actually doing that had kept him oblivious to followers, which brings him to his startled surprise when she catches at him staring at the wham-o bird box in his hands. he nearly jolts, actually, almost thinking it's another robbie clerk that wants to supervise him or something and talk about their OH BOY HOWDY DAY.
the washing relief is instant in his eyes when he realizes that wasn't their case, and if he could smile, he would. he could feel his lips tense as the remaining muscle tries to pull back and makes it all uncomfortable— but luckily, it's all hidden underneath his scarf. she doesn't have to see it. his greeting comes as a surprised hum at first and a tight mouthed: miss cassandra!
he's been refraining from talking, becoming more shy than she remembers meeting him. but for her, he makes a gallant effort. as he puts the box back on its shelf, he speaks, muffled under woolly fabric and tense lips: ]
I just wanted to look around. 've never been here, [ disjointed thoughts, a point at the shelf ] it's a cool bird, [ now he just looks stupidly happy and excited to see her, so much that his wording seems ditsy. ] what're you doing here?