[ She comes to a sudden stop when she sees the cake, the words on it jumping out at her like a highway robber. Her brain stutters; she peeks left and right as if there might be someone else in the house who could have arranged this for her. Slow Dancer, maybe.
But no, Dokja is definitely the only other person in the vicinity. A lump wells up in her throat without apparent reason, and she looks perhaps alarmingly more devastated than delighted. ]
Mr. Dokja... what is this?
[ As if she can't read the cake perfectly well on her own. ]
no subject
But no, Dokja is definitely the only other person in the vicinity. A lump wells up in her throat without apparent reason, and she looks perhaps alarmingly more devastated than delighted. ]
Mr. Dokja... what is this?
[ As if she can't read the cake perfectly well on her own. ]