Training Montage

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It was a slow day at the thrift shop, no doubt in part due to both the imp festivities abound and the dawning of the summer season- not that its owner particularly minded much. Kennedy wasn't much of a fan of the season anyways, the heat none too friendly to his particular sense of fashion nor did his particularly pasty skin much appreciate how the crystalline light of burrowgatory seemed to grow in intensity around this time of year, an unfortunate quandary for both bun and doll form alike due to being woefully thin-furred. Rather than not risk his velvet, he remained in store, the flames of hell refusing to stoke him so long as he kept to his well conditioned box during prime daylight hours.

The current events did foster an idea however, but being one of the persuasion to prefer imps of a smaller scale it wasn't one that necessitated an entire training course to accomplish. Remil were much smarter than those who considered them vermin expected of them, a notion that Kennedy would unabashedly refute when it came to so-called carrion imps such as remil or corvats. Surviving through adversity as scavengers leads to ingenuity, and thriving as they do with marked intelligence and clear problem solving only to be deemed as pests was a stigma that the greed bun was none too fond of. Maybe he was projecting. Maybe just a little. But the point still stood.

He'd heard remil in particular possessed a certain aptitude when it came to navigating mazes, though you'd be surprisingly (okay, maybe not so) hard pressed to find any imp sized model mazes on demand at such short notice. And while technically, yes he Could go through the trouble of making one, he wasn't That desperate to give himself such a time sink of a pet project quite yet, with his own imp as of yet untrained. Yet. So, baby steps for now.

Which is why, at two in the afternoon on a Tuesday, Kennedy had fashioned a generous for a remil sized hoop, that at the moment was affixed in a secure but not quite aesthetically pleasing manner against his work desk. From his experience in how Ramone had a tendency to launch itself at him, the height of which was deemed more than reasonable, and making use of a clicker he had dug out of some old donation box that garnered the remil's attention he was attempting to coax him to hop through the hoop.

These attempts seemed fruitless at best, however, sitting now at 3:45 on a Tuesday, Kennedy leaning against the table with an arm loosely looped under his chin to keep himself some manner of upright, opposite hand still holding the clicker to the far side of the hoop absently click-clicking away in a tone that cut the unprecedented otherwise silence in an at this point maddening way. Remaining on the other side remained his pink remil, Ramone, tilting his head confusedly at his owner's listless demeanor though his ears twinged curiously at each click. In the interim, a couple prospective customers had shown their faces and Kennedy had proceeded to not explain his actions nor did they ask besides offering a baffled to concerned look his way, which was honestly preferable at this point.

Relenting enough on his pursuit to give himself a break, the succubun sat up with a stretch that echoed the crunch of his spine in a horrific fashion he was simply glad he was the only bun in earshot for. Hours prior, before the heat came to be sweltering, he had managed to come by a fresh face, and though he hadn't known this Quince for not five minutes she had graciously unloaded a small parcel of sinnamon buns into his arms before going on with her own impish affairs. Nice girl, he thought idly to himself, finally taking the time to unwrap the box and sample the confections. Tearing off a chunk and setting the rest down against the table, ghosting the morsel between his lips and nearly shivering as his eyes drifted closed unconsciously to savor the sweet treat.

CLACK!

Lost in his own little world in that instant, the sound came as a shock, eyes shooting open to see Ramone now beside the confectionary, snuffling at it with curiosity. Eyes drifting to where the remil had last been seen, lifting the sinnamon bun out of reach, it didn't take long to put two and two together that the pink rodentine imp had in fact done the very thing he had attempted to do for the past hour or so, unprompted. Curiously, Kennedy tore off a small piece of the sinnamon bun and handed it to the remil, who graciously took it with its own hands, greedily stuffing it into its mouth then looking up at Kennedy expectantly as if asking for more. A coy smile spread across his cheeks, tearing another bit off and setting the rest of the pastry aside, other hand reaching again to the clicker.

Setting the torn piece on the opposite side of hoop from the remil, he held one finger up for a moment as a halt command, and as he removed that finger there went that click-click command once again. Swiftly, Ramone darted through the hoop, landing on the other side to collect his prize. Absolutely beaming, Kennedy couldn't help but bubble up a giggle, petting the top of his head approvingly and allowing him his spoils before attempting again. And again, when he next attempted, another success. And another. Soon enough, baiting with the treat served unnecessary, the clicker enough of a motivator on its own. More than satisfied with his efforts, Kennedy offers another click-click one last time to coax his remil to him, hopping through the hoop to be greeted with a treat and a gracious skritching to his head and neck. Collecting Ramone into his hands and cupping them, he offers the remil into his bandana, an offer that is graciously accepted.

Petting the lump idly squirming about in his bandana he hums to himself, idly wondering what other potential skills could be learned. Maybe there is something to making mazes. Could maybe even learn to retrieve things. But that's a matter for another day, after all..