[ yeah, confirmed weird. Bucciarati pauses, too, and stares at Abbacchio's (not so) little chicken foot, impassive expression even harder to read than normal, thanks to being a fucking bear. The shoes thing is definitely a problem, he must agree, and he nods; the gears are turning in his brain, but he's failing to think of any possible way to put a boot on that thing, even if he got one tailor-made. It'd be more like getting really hardy gloves... ]
Mm. [ a non-committal noise of general agreement. He's also forced to go barefoot most of the time, since his feet got bigger and bearier like his hands, but at least they're made for walking distances on. Abbacchio's clearly supposed to be up in the trees. ] The sooner you learn how to fly, the better.
[ it's starting to sound like he's harping on it, which he is aware of and which was not his intention. Maybe it's because flying still sounds exciting to him. Not all of his boyish wonder got extinguished, apparently. Nonetheless, he starts walking forward again. ]
You could always ride on my shoulders if they get sore.
[ in that inscrutable tone that Bucciarati sometimes adopts - half-joking, half-not... ]
no subject
Mm. [ a non-committal noise of general agreement. He's also forced to go barefoot most of the time, since his feet got bigger and bearier like his hands, but at least they're made for walking distances on. Abbacchio's clearly supposed to be up in the trees. ] The sooner you learn how to fly, the better.
[ it's starting to sound like he's harping on it, which he is aware of and which was not his intention. Maybe it's because flying still sounds exciting to him. Not all of his boyish wonder got extinguished, apparently. Nonetheless, he starts walking forward again. ]
You could always ride on my shoulders if they get sore.
[ in that inscrutable tone that Bucciarati sometimes adopts - half-joking, half-not... ]