wickedlittlecritta
lord of misrule
In the clear bright light of a sunny Maine morning, Isaak's shadow followed him with a grudging, meandering wobble not unlike that of a sulky teenager. At least once Isaak was sure he lost it as he crossed through a patch of shade, but then it scurried after him before he could really start to worry about being shadowless. Isaak gave it a critical look as he stopped outside the dining hall.
"Can you...be cool?" he asked it doubtfully. It tilted its head at him. Isaak sighed and opened the door.
Left to his own devices, Isaak usually wound up eating a lot of weird smoothies, so he was in general pretty well predisposed to anyone who might feed him anything that could be classified as "real food." He found the dinning hall empty (unsurprising, given the early hour), and headed into the kitchen.
"Good morning, Brett!" he called. "I'm here to steal your kettle." He pushed the kitchen door open and pulled green tea packets out of the pocket of his cargo shorts. "I'll share, if you like green tea."
