Taking a mini hiatus. Mental health isn’t the greatest. Will get to replies upon returning. Sorry, guys.
Marie squealed as she saw him moving his leg, holding her claws tighter into his pants. She only continued to squirm as he started to pick her up, having her paws try to hold on to him a bit more, still afraid that she might fall. She stopped and started to pout as he poked her bow, mewling unhappily up at him. She supposed this is what she got for going up to strangers. She was trying to figure out what he went and looked over at before starting to mewl loudly as he cuddle her within his arms. She stopped almost immediately as the man started to scratch under her ears, now purring happily. “Monsieur, why did you pick me up?” She didn’t much anymore, and nuzzled his hand, but it couldn’t stop her from being curious.
Talking cat. Okay! The jolt he gave wasn’t exactly small, but his reaction was far from violent. After all… He’d seen a horse that had been able to speak in the middle of his practice track. That was about as freaky as things got for him, talking animal-wise. Still, even after just jostling her a little, he fussed and attempted to hold her properly. In the process, he was probably just mussing up her finely groomed fur even more. “Ah, well, mad-em-wah-zelle,” He tried, botching the language. “You looked like you wanted to be picked up. Clinging to me and everything. I mean, I can’t blame you. I’d cling to me, too.” There was that ego, shining through so reliably. He returned to petting her as well as he could manage, biting down on his lower lip hard enough to draw blood when she cuddled into his broad hand. He didn’t do cute things… Yet, he made no noticeable effort to draw away. “Say, what’s a fancy little kitty doing out on her own? Shouldn’t you be on a silk pillow somewhere eating caviar out of a golden chalice or something?” A finger trailed under her chin as he lowered the both of them to the ground, the grown man sitting cross legged.
iamspeed started following you
The little girl smiled at the other, giving a small wave, the other hand resting in her pocket as her head tilted slightly, “Hello there…”
Racing helmet held loosely under his arm, the taller man bent down to get a better look at the Sugar Rush denizen, a gloved hand pushing back at the matted bangs that stuck at a sweaty forehead. “Hey, kid. Gotta say, the colors are intense, but I’m digging the track you guys have here. I see a lot of top-downs, though. I don’t know how they do it — the sweet stuff’s so thick in the air!” Still a bit breathless from practically tearing up one of the open tracks, he looked Hershey over. “What’s your name, kiddo?”
"Lightning McQueen?" She had never heard of a name such as that before, only being able to imagine that he had changed it within some point of his life. "Race car driver? I can’t really say that I keep up with that." The Southern Belle had never really paid much attention to any form of sports, unless it was to go to watch one of the jocks, so race car driving was even further away from what she would be know. "I hardly doubt that I could just leave ya right away, it just wouldn’t be right." Especially with how excited he seemed to be, but that could just he his personality, making him a bit more like herself. Honestly, she just see it to be right to leave someone right away like that, even though they had just met. "Thank you, hun." Lottie could help but giggle a bit as he nodded his head, placing her now free hands on to her hips. "That is very sweet of ya ta say, an’ well I love the thought of bein’ a Princess, but I’m the heiress to the La Bouff’s." She let out a small "Oh!" as he took her hands once more, Lightning’s actions seemed a bit odd, possibly nervous. She had only gotten into toning her own personality from this happening, but peered up to him curiously. "Lightning? Darlin’ ya alright?"
"An heiress?" Lightning’s posture hung forward, the man’s squared jaw falling slack. “Wowzers, ma’am.” He uttered, managing to pull his features back into something vaguely resembling ‘handsome’. The rookie had totally hit the jackpot! … Even if it was just a trial run of sorts; he would rather have a catch like this temporarily than not at all! Beautiful, socially composed, refined… All the things he
fantasized about being found himself to be, really. The lightning bolt zipper that dangled from his crimson jacket had ridden down, exposing a black muscle shirt that hugged his frame. Like his ride, he was more streamlined in his build, toned, but not positively buffed out. Of course, that didn’t say much for the picture painted in the speedster’s mind of himself — in McQueen’s little fantasy world, he was ripped! Shrugging his shoulders as if to limber up, he clutched at the open sides of his jacket like the lapels to a suit, digging the heel of one Lightyear boot onto the ground. ”Miss La Bouff. If I may be so forward,” One blonde eyebrow had been lofted, a practiced grin flashed in all of its brilliance. “I’d like for you to accompany me, as my wi—” His tongue was caught. “Wiiii…” Sky blues practically crossed as he made an effort to say the foreign word. “Fffff. Eh. Wife! As my wife,” Having gathered himself once more, he focused his sights on her again, nodding exuberantly. “For dinner? …I know, I know. It’s crazy clichéd, but trust me. You won’t regret it. I’m Lightning. And the thing about Lightning, is that it always comes unexpected.” His voice had dropped into a confident purr as he leaned to the side, head falling in the opposite direction with yet another cheeky smirk. Sure, he had this all planned out! Mostly. He just had to make a call and bam! Perfect evening. The question of if he was alright had flown completely over his head as he continued to gaze expectantly, his appearance not unlike a puppy dog that was trying its hardest to remain patient. His brows were upturned for a moment, almost meekly as his foot tapped. Had he a tail, it would have been haphazardly swaying behind him in anticipation for her answer.