vagabond

chapter 4

Tommy has no idea where he is, but he's ecstatic.

Wilbur said something about the place being called snow-chest-ur . But he totally forgot, instead diverting his attention to the white-encapsulated wonderland he had just traveled to. He was so enamoured, infact, he forgot that Wilbur was going to let him buy things.

( A thing. Singular. )

It was- God, it was magic. Tommy's pretty sure it's not real but like hell is he going to let anyone pinch him to test that theory.

It was a snug, homely area, a sharp contrast to what Tommy had been accustomed to his entire life. He had never- He hadn't seen anything like this before. And he was obsessed. He quite literally left Wilbur in favour of the sights. A woman even let him pet her dog!

"Wilbur, you're being demoted." Tommy declares; captivated by the adorable dog in front of him, stroking her behind the ears. She leaned into the touch, and god, Tommy had never felt this much serotonin in his life. "You're not my best friend anymore. The dog is. You can leave."

"Since when were we- Wait," Wilbur huffs and breathes, having traced around the boy's footsteps without stopping even once, tired. "Dogs don't have money or any understanding of how to take care of gremlins such as yourself."

"Buy me things, then you can leave, bitch boy." Tommy decides. He's so incredibly smart. "I don't need to be taken care of either, I'm- I'm a lone wolf, a wild card, even."

The conversation ended there as Wilbur realizes he's most likely not going to receive any cohesive responses from the boy who's once again diverted his attention to the dog, no matter how much Wilbur wanted to respond.

A great pyrenees, the dog's breed, standing as majestic and royal as ever. She would have been intimidating, if not for the fact she was currently smothering a blond boy with love. The sight was admittedly very adorable, with Wilbur taking a mental note: Tommy seems to have an attachment to animals.

"I'm never leaving. I love her. She's so pog. She's my best friend. I'm naming her. Her name is....Uh,"

A winter moth gently floats it's way down onto the dog's head.

"- Clementine . The dog shall be named Clementine ."

"Sweetheart," The woman who owns the dog chips in, "The dog has a name...Her name i-"

Against all expectations, Clementine chips in, lifting her head up and smiling, panting with her tongue sticking out. She barks happily, the equivalent of a little dog babble.

"She likes the name. It's Clementine." Tommy declares, absolutely emanating his...smartness. He pets Clementine, watching her smile. And Tommy is fucking giddy over it.

"I don't think that's-"

Aaaand, the child is gone, attention directed to Clementine once more.

Wilbur walks up to the woman, sighing ( fondly, but he won't admit that). "I'm so sorry about him."

"It's quite alright," The woman looks upwards to face him, (oh wow he's tall), "He's just a child, after all. And... Clementine seems to like the attention. He's a lot more hyperactive than me."

"He's, uh, definitely...Got energy. Too much, some would say." Wilbur admits; painfully tired. Keeping up with Tommy is like keeping up with the speed of light, it's impossible.

"Just the right amount for a child, I'd say." The woman smiles up at Wilbur. ( Seriously, he's so tall, she's getting serious neck pains.) "Oh, I think- The child is running off."