[Alucard listens, considering everything Ciri says as he moves with his nose practically glued to the ground. The explanation feels like anxiety being let out in a long and flowing stream, and he understands. There's nothing scarier when something that likely cannot look after itself in the long term escapes.
Once Ciri knocks, Alucard sits on his haunches, the very picture of an oversized but well behaved dog. He can hear shuffling and muttering through the door, and he places a paw on top of Ciri's boot to assure her there's no need to knock again.
The door swings open, and the face of a harried printer stares back at Ciri, splattered in paint and eyes sharp from so many years looking at print. Long black hair is pulled back and up into a braid and then a circled bun, and a tired sigh escapes. It is impossible to ignore the bright splashes of purple and green on her apron. And everywhere else, down to her workboots.
From deeper in the shop, there's a who is it? The client? We're not done!
Exhausted, the printer looks Ciri and Alucard up and down, frowning.]
Not the client. A woman and her dog, and out in the storms. Miss, can I help you?
no subject
Once Ciri knocks, Alucard sits on his haunches, the very picture of an oversized but well behaved dog. He can hear shuffling and muttering through the door, and he places a paw on top of Ciri's boot to assure her there's no need to knock again.
The door swings open, and the face of a harried printer stares back at Ciri, splattered in paint and eyes sharp from so many years looking at print. Long black hair is pulled back and up into a braid and then a circled bun, and a tired sigh escapes. It is impossible to ignore the bright splashes of purple and green on her apron. And everywhere else, down to her workboots.
From deeper in the shop, there's a who is it? The client? We're not done!
Exhausted, the printer looks Ciri and Alucard up and down, frowning.]
Not the client. A woman and her dog, and out in the storms. Miss, can I help you?