He’s…cute? Him? [i]Him?[/i] With all his everything? Cute?

He’s. Cute!

She says he’s cute!

Why, that just! She’s! Wow! Wow!!!

C’mon, ma’am, stop it! How’s he supposed to hold all this happy and stay professional? He’s trying! He’s trying real hard! But his smile’s melting into a big, wrinkly grin, and, and, he’s shuffling from one foot to the other, and pawing at the ground like a big bashful goober. And. W-wait. No. No.

Noooooooooo [i]aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa[/i]

It…it does say that on his nameplate! He [i]is[/i] Cutie! You said so yourself! Many times! Oh, oh gosh, golly, heck and beans, his tail’s gonna flick right through the ceiling, and it’ll be all your fault, and, he sure hopes you’re ready to live with that! It’s gonna happen! Just you wait!

But maybe. But maybe? She is ready for that? Because her hand. (Hazel.) It. It’s. Wow. It’s so [i]soft.[/i] (She just took your hand.) How can hand be so soft? How can hand so smooth and so lovely against his? (No customer’s touched you this entire time.) And. Oh. Ohhhhhh. Her thumb. Running across his hand and wrist. (She [i]took[/i] your hand.) Baaaaaaack. And forth. Baaaaaaack. And forth. So soft. So soothing.

So cool.

(Her body is too cool.)

…bwuh?

What was that noise?

He looks. He turns. He can’t move.

He can’t move.

Oh.

(This is bad. Something’s wrong. He should feel afraid. He should feel alarmed. But he just. Can’t. It’s there. Sort of. But it’s like his head and heart are stuffed with fluff. Thick, smothering, floral fluff. He has to muster an effort even to tug at his trapped wrist. Beyond the fact that this lady has a grip of iron. Even putting his weight into it, she’s not budging an inch.) 

“Uh…um. Excuse me…”

(And still. He can’t. Ngh.) 

“Ma’am, could you, please-”

(Why can’t he think?) 

“Could you just-”

(What’s wrong with him?!)

[i]“Stop!”[/i]

There’s a flash of light.

Warm and wild. Laughing and leaping. Rush and ruin. Condensed to a single glimmering moment. Stretching wider than words can hold. They dance, never-ceasing. They dance, never-seen. They dance, through the heart of a Faun, and through the touch of a hand. Swell of wonder! Of joy! Of [i]life![/i] Plant your feet and suffer the tide! Bare your heart that it may be treasured!

Listen! Listen! And hear the song of the stars!

[The mysterious visitor is given a Touch of Nature: 3 + 5 + 2 = [b]10[/b]
-She must answer the question “What do you hope to get from Cutie?” or take a Condition
-She may give Cutie a string on her to clear a Condition]