Pero~ Pero~
A rhythmic licking sound echoed beside me like a soft, innocent melody.
Except nothing about the source was innocent.
Zeraphira was still walking at my side, her hand lopped mine, as she was holding two ice cream cones.
Both large cones.
Both in danger of structural collapse.
And she was eating them alternately with the solemn precision of a brain surgeon performing divine ritual surgery.
Left lick.
Right lick.
Left lick.
Pause.
Glare at a teenager who walked too close.
Left lick again.
"…Zera," I said slowly as we walked down the shopping district. "Why do you have two?"
She blinked at me, licking the right one again.
"Because they were… staring at you."
"…The ice creams?"
"Yes."
"…Zera."
Her eyes narrowed.
"Anything that stares at you longer than 1.5 seconds is my enemy."
"Zera—"
"They were mocking me."
"THE ICE CREAMS WERE NOT MOCK—"
She turned to me, the faintest pout tugging at her lips.
