"Oh, those're good, too!" Then, leaning in to whisper, she added, "But don't tell Mr. Eldoon I said that." His were way better, anyway. Much saltier, for starters.
Finally, she dragged him towards an old, wooden wagon that looked like it'd seen better days. A banner on the front proudly proclaimed ELDOON, while a flag off to the side pictured the stand's mascot: a crudely drawn face welcoming a mouthful of ramen... with a look of disgust.
But Trucy didn't pay attention to any of that. Relinquishing Kurt's arm, she bounded the remaining distance to the stand and made her presence known by dropping her arms heavily on the counter and demanding, "One curry udon, please! Extra spicy!"
Guy Eldoon, who'd had his back turned to the counter while he tended his food, whirled around sharply with a sour look on his face. His hat (which may or may not have resembled an upturned ramen bowl) swiveled as he did so, and his hair (which may or may not have been luscious locks of noodles) smacked him in the face. He brushed the strands aside, ready to give someone a piece of his mind, until his gaze fell upon the person on the other side of the counter. Immediately, his expression brightened. (Well, as much as it could, anyway.) He threw a dish towel over his shoulder and leaned on the counter to greet her.
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Finally, she dragged him towards an old, wooden wagon that looked like it'd seen better days. A banner on the front proudly proclaimed ELDOON, while a flag off to the side pictured the stand's mascot: a crudely drawn face welcoming a mouthful of ramen... with a look of disgust.
But Trucy didn't pay attention to any of that. Relinquishing Kurt's arm, she bounded the remaining distance to the stand and made her presence known by dropping her arms heavily on the counter and demanding, "One curry udon, please! Extra spicy!"
Guy Eldoon, who'd had his back turned to the counter while he tended his food, whirled around sharply with a sour look on his face. His hat (which may or may not have resembled an upturned ramen bowl) swiveled as he did so, and his hair (which may or may not have been luscious locks of noodles) smacked him in the face. He brushed the strands aside, ready to give someone a piece of his mind, until his gaze fell upon the person on the other side of the counter. Immediately, his expression brightened. (Well, as much as it could, anyway.) He threw a dish towel over his shoulder and leaned on the counter to greet her.
"Trucy! It's been a while. How are ya?"