name: asher
what are they mad about?:
“Hi there- is this drink alcoholic?”
Asher glanced blearily up at the small figure that had hopped onto the seat next to him. He was tired, his head hurt, and he was decidedly not in the mood for conversation right now. He gave a short jerk of his head in response.
“No? Perfect,” the voice said again, followed by a sliding sound that Asher realized meant his drink was being pulled away from him.
“Hey- that’s mine!” He snapped indignantly as the culprit- a small brown kit- took a sip of the drink through the brightly striped straw, gazing at Asher with innocent blue eyes.
“It’s probably good that this isn’t alcoholic,” the kit remarked. “Judging by the state you’re in now. I’ve seen you picking a bunch of fights in the bar already- imagine the havoc you’d wreak if you’d been drinking alcohol. It’s a good smoothie, though.” He held the glass away from him, eyeing it thoughtfully. Asher’s insides gave an uncomfortable wrench- some weird combination of tiredness and anger and embarrassment at the way this kid was assessing him.
“Shut up- you don’t know anything about it. And give me my drink back,” he growled softly, reaching out and plucking the glass out of the offender’s paws.
“Why don’t you explain it to me?” The kit asked, leaning on the counter as Asher took a large sip, huffing moodily. “The bartender’s noticed your behavior. If you’re not careful you might find yourself getting kicked out of here soon.”
“That’s none of your busin-” Asher spluttered, slamming his paws down on the counter, his anger spiking up again. He glared over at the kit beside him and happened to make eye contact with the frowning bartender as he did so, hovering somewhere over the kid’s shoulder.
“-ugh. Fine,” he muttered. “So maybe I’ve been a bit aggressive tonight. But,” he raised his voice dramatically, “I’ve only been behaving this way because- well-”
“You’re sleep-deprived?” The kit guessed helpfully. “Delirious?”
“No!” Asher protested. He was silent for a moment before relenting. “Fine. Maybe I am a little sleep-deprived. But mostly I’m mad because I forgot my bathing suit at home. My swim trunks! I’m on a cruise and I can’t even swim because I forgot my bathing suit. Can you believe that?”
“I- sure,” the kid said, doubtfully. “But- have you considered just... getting a new pair from the gift shop? Or substituting a pair of old athletic shorts, if you have any?”
Asher stopped talking abruptly. He really did need sleep, it seemed, if he had failed to notice that simple solution.
“Well. I feel like an idiot now,” he grumbled.
“Don’t worry. Everyone’s prone to temporary bouts of idiocy,” The kit said sagely, patting him on the arm and stealing another sip from Asher’s smoothie.
470 words