[Couture and Brochures] Incognito

        Aster has preferred being in their bun form on their days off for as long as they could remember. It’s much easier to run errands when people aren’t trying to yap your ear off both at and between every stop you make. He’s plenty social—he’d never show nor admit it, but sometimes he just needs a day to breathe. 

        Of course, Aster has only one day off this week—they normally have a couple days off, but he made an exception for a client who travelled to the inner city for a full back piece. (Unfortunately they were only available on one of Aster’s days off, and he had already booked five days in a row.)

        Aster switched to bun form as soon as he got back yesterday from a 12-hour project at the studio, and has no intention of switching back for at least another 24 hours. Thankfully, today’s laundry list is short and simple: grab a pack of Marlbuno Golds for himself, plus rolling papers and “whichever candy smells like it could grow in the heavenly meadow,” according to the note on the counter left by his roommate. His roommate is crashed out on the couch next to their bong, so this note must be a few hours old. Aster doesn’t typically mind running errands for their roommate—knowing he isn’t slothful like them is enough to fuel his pride for at least a few hours. 

        Being an odd day to have off of work at an earlier hour of the day, the streets aren’t quite as bustling as usual—it wouldn’t seem this way to an outsider, yet it’s a rare gift to the residents of this neighborhood. Since today’s conditions are favorable, Aster decides to head to their favorite bun-only convenience store a couple blocks away. There are closer options, but there’s a thrift shop with a resident Ribbow a few doors down from this one and Aster loves to peek in. They get lots of stares from other buns while they hop along, it comes with the look—Aster quite likes the attention. They finally come up on the small shop sitting on the corner of the block.

        As Aster hops through the door, their senses are rudely greeted by the little store. The familiar halogen lights reflect off the bright tile floor, casting a harsh, hazy light on the patrons and groceries. The smell—distinct and irreplicable—is something like cold tobacco and freezer burn, but with a twist. For a small corner store, there are plenty of aisles to puruse and a fair variety of items for sale—like a treasure cove hidden in plain sight. Aster hops over to the candy aisle and decides on two options: Starbuns, fruity square candies that you can smell through the layers of packaging, and a Cherubar, some new candy bar that’s supposed to taste like Ambrosia (yet Ambrosia is not listed in the ingredients…).  

        He hops up toward the counter where they keep all the best wares—lottery tickets, cigarettes, pleasure enhancers, and a variety of grey-market drugs. Aster grabs a pack of matches and a novelty lighter in addition to their cigarettes and rolling papers.

         The store seems empty—the cashier, seeing Aster’s eyes browsing more wares, offers to keep their tab open while they continue shopping. Aster heads toward the freezer aisle to grab some popsicles when the bell above the door chimes. They glance over to see if it’s anyone they know, and end up doing a double take—a gorgeous indigo bun hops through the door, face obscured by a mask, silver leaves on their ears rustling in the wind of the door slamming shut. A single strip of silver peaks out amidst the tuft of fur on their forehead, and that causes Aster to pause—does he know them?

        After deciding on some raspberry popsicles, Aster hops back up to the counter at the same time as the familiar stranger. The other patron is paying no attention to Aster, so they decide to have some fun. 

        “Hard or soft?” Aster asks loudly, brashly—perhaps too loud and too brash seeing as the only people in the store are the two patrons and the tired cashier. 

        “Excuse me?” Their voice was as smooth as velvet—well, as smooth as annoyed velvet. 

        “Hard bristles or soft, I can feel the difference when I brush, but I can’t tell after,” Aster says, turning around with two toothbrushes in their free hand. 

        “With a mouth like yours, probably hard,” the stranger pokes back at Aster with a sneak of a smirk. 

        The cashier starts to grab the rest of Aster’s purchase when Aster stops them—

         “They can go ahead, I’m still checking something out,” Aster says with a wink. 

         The other bun definitely wasn’t blushing while arranging their items on the counter. 

         Aster hops a few paces down to the kiosk with a mixed inventory of magazines and sunglasses to check themself out in the tiny mirror. They try on a pair of red triangle glasses meant for their bun form and decide these are a good idea. He starts to hop away when a flash of indigo on one of the covers catches his eye—the final puzzle piece. 

        “So, I haven’t seen you around this burrough, you from here?” Aster offers coolly while attempting to walk aloofly back toward the counter. 

        “Oh, just stopping through,” the other bun responds while swiping their card. They haven’t made much eye contact and, while seeming interested in conversation, have only provided short answers. It’s absolutely Velveteen. 

        “It's a great area, rich in culture and fashion,” Aster offers, taking the sunglasses off and placing them on the counter as the cashier started ringing up their purchase for the third time. 

        Not wanting to make the bun uncomfortable, Aster added “Great tattoo studio down the block as well. Any of your markings tattoos?”

        The bun giggled, “No, no, no tattoos. Not very typical in my line of work,” they said while closing up their purse. 

        “Well, if you ever want a little ink, come find me,” Aster wondered if they ever would. 

        The bun hummed and said “Sure thing,” with a sweet wink, and started on their journey to wherever they were going next. 

        Aster slammed way too much cash on the counter, grabbed their bag of groceries, and caught up to the stranger at the door. 

        “Or, if you ever have a shoot that calls for my type, my shop’s just down the road,” they say quieter with a wink. 

        Velveteen blushed, realizing her identity was likely exposed, and when the two buns reached the street they parted ways. 

         Aster wonders if those indigo ears will ever hop through their door. During their next shift, when their coworkers have customers carouseling through, Aster can’t help but look up every time the bell chimes—so far they have yet to do another double-take.