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Poor guy.
“I try hard at it, though, Daddy.” Yes, a distraction was in order. What had we been talking about? Oh, random thoughts while sweeping. “Did you understand what I was saying about the socializing stuff?”
I couldn’t remember exactly what I’d said anymore because the conversation had gone too many places, so I was glad when he nodded and used that steel-trap brain of his to keep it going. “Yes, my Dane. While I appreciate Amy’s enthusiasm and intentions, I find I am not experiencing the same emotions.”
Daddy didn’t want to go either?
“Their conversation was lacking as a whole and one-dimensional at best.” His frustration with that was clear in his voice. “The people-watching as it is called was not stimulating either.”
Obviously, that was some kind of cardinal sin as far as social events went.
“Where do you like to go people-watching, Daddy?” His answer was either going to be delightful or really confusing because I already knew he found the grocery store to be endlessly entertaining, but he managed to surprise me again.
“At the restaurant which serves imitation Italian cuisine called pizza.” There was no hesitation in his voice at all which made me even more curious.
“Do you like pizza?” It wasn’t something I’d thought to order for him, so I started to wonder if he’d been avoiding his favorite food because he assumed I didn’t like it.
“No.” To him that seemed to be a complete answer, so he didn’t elaborate until I let out a soft laugh. “The combination of ingredients is interesting in a scientific capacity, but I have not found a consistency that I enjoy.”
I thought I knew what he meant by that…thin crust versus something like deep dish, but I figured that discussion could wait until I knew what we were talking about.
“Why do you like going to the pizza place then?” It was something about people-watching, so maybe it had to do with BDSM in some way, but I couldn’t remember any local events that met up at a restaurant.
A coffee shop about an hour away was the only thing that came to mind but that didn’t seem to be what he was describing.
“It has a highly diverse clientele and there are two youthful members of our species who are starting out on their mate journey. It is highly educational and entertaining.” Daddy seemed confused when all I could do was groan. “I find inebriated humans to be curious creatures but the youthful flirtation does not include alcohol.”
Don’t worry, they’re sober?
It was good to know but I felt so bad for the guys that were under such a weird microscope.
“Daddy, how many people are going there on a regular basis to watch them flirt?” How were they functioning at all?
“I do not know an exact number, my Dane.” Daddy shrugged and seemed to think the question was odd at the very least. “From what I have seen, the numbers vary. The individuals and couples who are watching alter on a random schedule. However, I have seen at least twenty separate cross-species couples and individuals.”
Oh, good grief.
Wait.
“That many cross-species couples?” I wasn’t sure if that sounded speciesist or not, but I went with the description for the time being. “Friends of yours?”
“No.” It just took a few seconds of silence that time for him to realize that wasn’t enough of a response. “However, there appears to be several in domination-based relationships.”
He was a wealth of curious information sometimes.
“Maybe this weekend we should go people-watch and get pizza? If it’s any kind of an Italian restaurant we could get you pasta instead?” They might have a salad or something like that too. “There has to be something other than pizza.”
“I will be happy to experience curious and drunk humans with you while consuming mediocre nutrition.” He gave me one last long hug before sitting me up and making me feel a bit like a doll he was playing with. “Have we answered all of your varied concerns?”
I had no idea.
“Yes.” It seemed to be the easiest answer but I added a qualifier just in case. “But if I start thinking more, I’ll let you know.”
He didn’t seem to understand how that was insane at all and just nodded like it was a very serious conversation. “Thank you, my Dane. I will do my best to remember the psychological connection between manual labor and a varied thought process.”
“Thank you, Daddy.” Kissing his cheek because I wasn’t sure there was another good response, I tried not to smile too big. “I don’t want you to worry.”
Otherwise, we’d never get anything done.
And we were only halfway through cleaning my place, we hadn’t even made it over to his at all yet.
Shit.
Now I had another random varied thought process.
“Daddy?” I hadn’t even made it out of his lap, so I just curled back in as I remembered something else we should’ve already talked about. “Where do you live?”
