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Title: Ten Dollars
Fandom: Tales of Zestiria
Characters/pairing: Rose/Lailah
Prompt: Sappho #9
Rating: T
Word Count: 524

Notes: more of that modern day AU verse from earlier. yay.

Lailah probably tastes like the first fruit of summer.

It’s the tarts, the powder dusting from the crepe stand sticking to her teeth that makes her think it. Rose wipes her mouth and tugs on the napkin she’d stuffed in her breast pocket earlier, knocking crumbs across her lap, screwing up the perfect harmony of patchwork quilt/picnic basket/puma shoes Lailah had arranged at her own expense. Rose feels a little bad, but Lailah’s carrying two cold drinks and her sunhat in hand when she returns from the elephant ear vendor and doesn’t notice the mishap, only the wilted state of Rose’s makeup, which she worsens by pressing her water bottle against.

“Phew, here you go--” Rose takes the sugary beverage and mock cheers in thanks when the greasy plate of goodness is at last deposited between them. Lailah slips down beside her, leaning back on her elbows and crossing her ankles to relax. It’s hot, but not enough to melt Lailah’s enthusiasm or her own. Just enough to make it an awkward experience for everyone in shorts and without an umbrella to realize the probability of their own insanity.

“Long line. I’m glad we came early.” Lailah reached for the food basket, coming up successful with a cold container of pasta.

“Me too. No chance that Zaveid’s going to find us in another half-hour.” Rose flipped open her phone, scrolling through missed calls. “Edna should have been here by now, though. She’s late.”

“They’ll find us, I’m sure. Tell them what we’re wearing.”

“Nah, I’m going to tell them what you’re wearing.”

“Food. I got frosting on my shorts somehow.” It’s a relief that Lailah’s sense of humor is so in line with her own.

There’s still two hours to go before the movie starts, which means two hours of notorious texts, fortune telling, snack runs, and negotiating with the office administrator for a speaker that actually works. Rose does the latter part, dragging the dead cord around like a sad and ratty security blanket. She doesn’t mind the weird looks.

Lailah people watches while smoothing out a wrinkled ten dollar bill and folding it up again, loosening the elastic band of her ponytail until it’s just a frizzball of green and silver. The amount of dampness around her hairline increases by the quarter hour, the speed with which her water bottle rapidly empties and she has to shuffle out into the crowds for more about proportional. At some point, Rose stops keeping track.

(Confirmed for a fact and saved to her phone’s album for later: that was definitely frosting on her back pocket.)

At a quarter to seven, Edna snaps her fingers in front of Rose’s face, scowling. Lailah spots them on a return trip from the bathroom and comes to life at her appearance, smile lighting up her whole face as she waves. Her tank top is still untucked from her drying her hands and it’s enough to make Rose flush all the way to her ears. Edna simply rolls her eyes at the reaction, mumbling under her breath.

Maybe Rose had needed that cold drink more than she knew.

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