frozen down to the core
Frost afforded Alexander a single, final look of contemplation before returning to his efforts to pilfer the sugar jar as secretly as he could manage. The woman across from him, he knew, would be his likely downfall in this veritable charade with her well-intentioned efforts to hold that jar up as if to make a spectacle of it. How Alexander had failed to miss that very thing the stallion hardly knew. Hmmm. Then again, there was every chance Alexander had seen it and was merely biding his time. Frost allowed his violet gaze to flicker briefly sideways to eye the Hunter once more before his features shifted back to their usual look of frigid apathy. His companions' question prompted little more than a vague shrug and the insistence that he kept Alexander as an employee because he was good at his job- even if his temperament was a little poor. Just the way people kept a winning racehorse no matter how badly it behaved. That analogy,it seemed, was hardly as lost upon the seat-stealing woman as he had anticipated. The woman instead insisted that it depended on his definition of winning. Frost allowed one eye to arch upward ever so slightly. That look was almost dubious. Was there any other definition of winning for a racehorse? It was her insistence that he should tell Alexander to smile more however that prompted that genuine flicker of amusement to his features. Even if it so hardly lasted more than a moment. Tell Alexander to smile? Oh how he would have paid to see someone do that.
"I will tell him one of our customers thinks he needs to smile more and work on his attitude."
There was little harm to himself in throwing the young woman under the metaphorical bus of Alexander's irritation. Frost so permitted to escape the Hunter's wrath and watch that veritable show that was sure to follow as it so often did whenever a customer had any sort of complaint the ancient hunter deemed frivolous. His lack of smile, Frost was certain, fell beneath the category of what Alexander deemed frivolous. It was his distinct desire, however, to keep the truth of Alexander's and his own relationship concealed, that prompted the equine to near skilfully navigate that conversation back to the woman herself. The war horse was instead determined to...pry to some extent, on his newest adversary who had so blatantly taken his seat captive and continued to hold it for ransom. She was new to this cafe. She had to be. It was the only way in which to explain her blatant behavior when the rest of those patrons knew exactly where not to sit when he was present. It was that very mention of Milstead's Cafe however that seemed to prompt a soft snort of disdain from the snowy haired man. That other cafe was inferior. Frost was certain of it. Their cake was frozen the night before, if not several nights before- only to be put on display the next day. It lacked taste, freshness and quality in every way. Alexander's cafe, in the very least, was always served fresh. Frost, on this singular topic, was decidedly...passionate. In as much as Frost had ever shown any degree of passion for anything. Carrot cake, after all, was a decided importance within his life. The young woman across from him seemed almost taken aback at his clear preference for that cake, her words seeming to hold a question of sorts before she boldly declared she preferred pumpkin bread. Pumpkin bread.
Frost's violet gaze lifted to meet her own, the stallion inclined to merely...stare for several long moments. As if this mention of pumpkin bread was a veritable crime that had prompted the stallion to cease all movement as his mind struggled to comprehend why anyone would choose pumpkin bread over carrot cake. Those seconds seemed to tick precariously by before Frost, at last, allowed another soft snort to erupt from his nose. The stallion reached for another sugar cube. His unusual gaze at last turning away from the woman's own.
"Pumpkin Bread is on Tuesday's. It's not Tuesday."
That statement was nothing short of blatant. The equine, for as long as he had lived, had lacked a certain amount of social....normalcy when it came to conversation. The war horse often deemed far too intense for most. His lack of emotion and cold lyrics inclined to put most people off any lengthy conversation with him. His lack of words, in turn, seemed to have the same effect. Frost seemed to near dare the woman to argue the day of the week before he continued to further indulge in those sugary sweets. He had managed nearly five of them now. Alexander so seeming none the wiser. Good. Still,the problem of this woman in his seat continued to persist with irritating continuation. The young woman's sudden query on when the cafe was busiest was answered with that same cold efficacy the snow-haired man seemed to answer most things. That reminder of her presence in his chair however seemed to coax her to query jus why it was important to begin with. Hmm. She was bold-this one. He had usually made most people so uncomfortable by this stage they were inclined to leave. How annoying.
"Because it's mine"
This, clearly, was answer enough. Frost was far more used to others doing exactly as he commanded of them. After all, few people were inclined to argue with Alpha's as it was. Then again, this woman was human. Human's tended to be obstinate in their oblivion to the world around them and its hierarchical constructs. Perhaps he should pity her for it. His sudden query on whether or not her brother was like her seemed to prompt confusion within her. Frost offered a single word by way of explanation. It was, however, at that moment, that the waitress cose to arrive with that cup of tea. A replacement for the woman's own and yet one Frost was content to hold at ransom. The overly nervous waitress was quick to flee as Frost lifted that teaspoon to begin to idly stir that drink. A drink he might have been willing to give to the woman- in return for his chair. His companion leaned back in her seat, her arms folding across her chest in further stubbornness before she answered his earlier question on her brother. Hmm. She had a supernatural brother then. She had no excuse for human obliviousness. She continued then to insist that tea was unsweetened and that he might wish to add some of his sugar cubes to it. Then again, she could always go and ask for more- even if she was forced to explain what happened to all the sugar that had been in the jar.
Frost's own gaze narrowed distinctly. Was this truly the game she wanted to play? The stallion reached to pluck a sugar cube from that jar only to place it within the tea before silently continuing to stir it.
"There seems like there is a lot of sugar still in this jar. Seems I didn't take any."
Frost reached to tip that sugar jar slightly forward then to display the contents within. That jar, suddenly, appearing entirely full once more. As if not a single piece had been touched- or seemingly so. The vaguest hint of a simper managed to tug at his features before that jar was placed upright once more. Frost's violet gaze continued to meet the woman's own.
"I really think we should switch chair's."
The stallion moved to lift that tea to his lips then, taking a smooth, easy sip before the faintest touch of his affinity so silently and easily moved to ensnare the poor woman. He hardly desired to bring her any harm, rather, he merely wished to make a point. It was a simple matter to allow that chill to creep into her body, to bring that shiver to her frame as if she was subject to an invisible and yet unescapable cold breeze. Frost was perfectly content to, well, make her annoyingly cold.
"Most people don't like that seat- it's near the window, it lets a draft in."
That the window was closed hardly seemed to manner to the equine. Frost merely letting that chill continue to brush over the woman in an effort to coax her to shiver. Such a thing requiring the barest effort from his affinity. Surely she would move out of the 'draft' wouldn't she?
"You're welcome to sit here, if you like, it's much warmer. Hmmm, I don't know your name either..."
Frost allowed his head to tilt ever so slightly as if contemplating something within the depths of his mind, his gaze still lingering on the poor, chilly woman across from him.
"I suppose I can introduce myself first. I'm Frost."
Such an ironic name for how very cold poor Emerance had become.....