andeverythinginbetween | (no subject)

Vetra can't leave the pyjak at home. He's taken to digging holes in the couch and stuffing fruit into it. It wouldn't be so bad if the fruit didn't inevitably get squished or bruised on the way in. She'd tried to trick him by putting blankets over it, like maybe he'd just bury them in the blankets. But he just throws the blankets on the floor and tries again.

So she can't leave him at home anymore. And she's got to get a new couch. So she puts him in a sweater she'd found in the child section at a thrift store and leads him outside. He's on a leash that's attached to a belt around his middle, but it's kind of pointless: he's riding on her shoulder right now, trilling happily.

After the first furniture store turns her away with a strict "No pets allowed" rule, she pulls up her omni-tool, to see if she can find a store that'll allow her little companion inside. She's so focused on the glowing orange projection on her forearm that she doesn't notice the person she's about to collide with.

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Padmé knows perfectly well that it's rude to stare, but in her defense, the person walking down the street towards her is an alien. Not that that's any excuse, really, but seeing a non-human face after two years of appalling homogeneity among her neighbors would probably make anyone forget their manners. And, apparently, their sense of when they're about to walk directly into the person they're staring at - which she realizes exactly two seconds before it happens. It's not enough time to jump out of the way, but she manages to shift enough to avoid the orange projection emanating from the person's arm.

"I'm so sorry, I should have been watching where I was going - are you alright?"

"Spirits," Vetra gasps, but she nods, three-fingered hand gripping the girl's arm. Rat, still on her shoulder, trills and grabs the top of Vetra's head to steady himself. "Yeah, I'm fine. Shit, are you? I didn't even see you." She waves her arm, sort of gesturing with her omni-tool. "I guess that's what I get for texting and driving, huh?" It's a bad joke. She's seen flyers for it all over the city so she figures most people will get it.

It's a bad joke, but Padmé laughs anyway. "I knew I should have paid more attention to those flyers," she says, voice light and amused. The person she's bumped into - they sound female, but she knows better than to assume - had managed to grab her arm fast enough to keep her on her feet, so she nods at the question, smoothing her skirt with her free hand. "I'm alright. How's your friend?"

"Rat? He's fine." She reaches up to reassure him with a pat, stepping back out of the woman's personal space. "He just likes to make noise." He trills again, as if he can understand what's being said (even though he can't).

She takes a good look at the woman, now. She's pretty — soft in the face, like most humans, with hair that Vetra is sure other humans are jealous of. She doesn't understand the keratin threads, herself, but she's been exposed to enough awkward hair advertisements and overheard enough conversations that she has a halfway decent grasp of what's enviable. Her build is petite, too, which Vetra finds adorable: she towers over her, head and shoulders.