nothing in moderation

The amount of dango in the clear plastic containers in Breakfast’s hands was, frankly, absurd. It made some kind of sense, of course, since a Burrowgatory-wide Imp Training Competition did mean that there were a lot of imps who would be craving the sweet, skewered morsels, but it didn’t make her arms any less tired. 

“Quince, I was wondering…” Breakfast began, nearly tripping over the imps at her feet as they made the short walk from Dan’s Dango to Quince’s shop. Strawbaby and Raspbaby, two little impups twice as brightly hued as Breakfast herself, were still working on the leash training thing; hence Breakfast’s presence at Pedigree Pets that morning in the first place. Hence her invitation to participate in the Imp Training Competition, and finally, hence her helping out with transporting the oversized order back to the shop in the first place.

“Is it how Dan runs out of wagashi as soon as he opens his doors in the morning?” Oh, yes. And there was that. Quince had been… somewhat sulky after the person ahead of them in line bought the last box.

“Oh, not quite,” Breakfast replied, doing her best to disguise her chuckle as a clearing of her throat. “I was just thinking… won’t the imps get a little sick if they eat too much of this stuff?”

She probably should have known better than to ask a bun whose subtype was gluttony, considering, as expected, Quince looked down at Breakfast with bare betrayal in her eyes. Behind them, the two impups and Mademoiselle, Quince’s just as brightly hued stroodle, nipped at each others’ tails, very nearly getting their leashes tangled together in their abstract game.

“No, no, not like that,” Breakfast clarified, mostly because that wounded look was enough to break hearts. A fun pastime, but not when it involved the bun who made the best cookies in the Burrow. “I mean… do you think they could get too… round?”

“Oh!” Quince breathed out a sigh of relief that even Breakfast could feel in her chest. If she had to guess, she’d speculate that too many rounds of arguing with Hutch over imp care had made the topic something of a landmine. “You mean, will the imps get chubby? Mademoiselle and Peach eat all the treats I make for them, and they’re both fit as a fiddle, if you ask me.” Indeed, Mademoiselle and the pair of cotton candy-hued impups both kept up just fine with their owners. Quince balanced her stack of boxes on one hand and placed the other on her hip. “And besides, you know the saying, right?”

Breakfast tilted her head. She leaned in like she was prepared to hear a bombshell of a secret. “What’s the saying?”

“I like to say, nothing in moderation.”

Oh, yes. Dozens of nights at the Rabbit Hole had taught Breakfast that lesson quite well.

And there was very little that embodied that lesson more than the yipping of nearly a dozen stroodles as soon as Quince and Breakfast passed through the Pedigree Pets front doors with their excessive haul still in hand. Strawbaby and Raspbaby joined into the yappy chorus without hesitation, but Mademoiselle calmly took a seat in a small, plush bed by the register, better behaved than the gaggle of imps crowding the door to their playpen at the suggestion of new treats to imbibe.

Breakfast smiled to herself, already imagining their petite muzzles chewing over their dumplings while she set the boxes down on the front counter. Some quick eyeballing of the order, then the litter of stroodles, confirmed there would be more than enough to go around. Perhaps she’d even be able to sneak some for herself…?

“Dangos are great to use when you’re training the impups, y’know,” Quince chimed in, shaking Breakfast from her own thoughts of snacking and back to the wide-eyed pups near her ankles. “If you ask me, the good stuff’s what keeps them motivated. Probably way more than whatever bland treats Hutch uses when he’s training his lil’ guys.”

Breakfast chose not to engage with the last comment, lest she get her hands in some baggage that she just wasn’t prepared to unpack so early in the morning. “Yeah? Well, how do you go about it? The babies could definitely use some training…” Not that their puppy energy wasn’t endearing, but no one told her how tough it could be to train two imps at the same time!

“Let me show you,” Quince replied brightly, not missing a beat. She took a couple plastic containers from the bags until she found a container of dango hued in a soft orange, positively beaming at the sight. “Peach, come here,” she called, taking a stick. “If you just give them one dumpling at a time, you can have them repeat the command a few times to really drive home the lesson. Watch this.”

The phloof in question emerged leisurely as ever from behind the counter, though the sight of the dango in Quince’s hand did prompt the creature to move just a bit faster. Breakfast found its pace charming in comparison to the pups she’d had her hands full with, especially when Peach rubbed at Quince’s leg affectionately. “Hiya, Peach,” she hummed. Even if Breakfast were blind, she’d have been able to hear the smile in Quince’s voice. The care she had for her imps was really quite sweet.

“Can I pet her?” Breakfast asked, overcome with the urge to hug on the imp before them.

“Of course,” Quince replied, watching Breakfast as she knelt to bury her hands in the imp’s soft, downy fur. “Phloofs are really just little love sponges.”

Peach lived up to that title for a few generous moments, but an imp would be an imp, and it was clear that the dango in Quince’s hand was simply too much of a distraction to be tolerated. A soft whimper of a noise emerged.

“Alright, alright, I get it,” Quince hummed, holding the small dumpling between her thumb and forefinger to show to the imp. “When you’re just getting started, show your imp the treat.” Peach’s attention was fixed on the dumpling at first, but eventually its eyes drifted to Quince, seemingly awaiting a command. Breakfast noted that Mademoiselle also watched her owner, and Strawbaby and Raspbaby seemed vaguely interested in what was going on. They’d even stopped chasing each others’ tails to watch Quince’s lesson.

“Once you get their attention, give the command. We’ll start with sit, since it’s one of the easiest for the impups to learn.”

Quince paused for just a moment. Breakfast leaned in. “Peach, sit.”

As much as a phloof could sit, of course. Peach’s body lowered, her tail laid flat on the floor. Quince didn’t hesitate before showering the phloof with praise. “Good Peach, good phloofie; who’s a good phloof?” she cooed, letting the imp chow down on the dumpling. “Now, see?” Quince held up the dango stick for Breakfast to examine. “There’s three still left, so we can repeat the trick a few times to make sure she really understands.”

Breakfast nodded her own understanding before Quince went ahead and offered the entire stick to Peach, anyway. “Oh–” Breakfast began, surprised.

“Nothing in moderation, remember?” Quince hummed with a wink. “The babies are giving you impuppy-dog eyes, you know.”

Indeed, when Breakfast looked down, both Strawbaby and Raspbaby were staring intently up at their owner. She also took a single dumpling from one of the boxed dango, holding it out to Strawbaby in the same way that Quince had for Peach. Raspbaby got the clue just a second later and skipped over to provide moral support to his sister. “Alright, sit!” Breakfast commanded.

And the pair… just… stood there. “Be patient,” Quince encouraged from behind Breakfast. Even Peach and Mademoiselle were invested in this, watching the two impups. Strawbaby’s already large eyes widened the longer the stand-off went on, while Raspbaby eventually got impatient and made a small whine in his throat. “Uh… sit!” Breakfast tried again.

To their credit, one of the impups was trying her best, too. Strawbaby wagged her tail, tilted her head, attempting damn near everything except for the trick that Breakfast wanted her to learn, while Raspbaby’s whining grew to a fever pitch. Breakfast cast a mildly panicked look at Quince. Was there something she could do to make them understand what she wanted?!

Taking the opportunity to pounce while his owner’s attention was elsewhere, Raspbaby snatched the dumpling from Breakfast’s hand, skipping off to enjoy his bounty near the pen of now hyper-aware stroodles. “Ah–” Before Breakfast could react, Strawbaby mimicked his actions, snatching the rest of the dango and running off giddy as ever. “Oh, no. Should I stop them?”

Quince, for her part, couldn’t hold back laughter any longer, taking the last dango from the container and offering the entire stick to Mademoiselle. For all her seeming disinterest, she took it without a second thought. “I guess you could try and stop them, but it would just make them sad, and who wants to do that? You can keep working on it with them.”

“You’re right,” Breakfast sighed, licking the glaze from the dumpling off her fingers. “Nothing in moderation, I guess.”

“Now you’re talking!” Quince replied with a booming laugh, patting Breakfast’s back so hard she stumbled. “Alright, I see a litter of hungry stroodles! Wanna see if any of them start turning colors?”

“Is there a color more fun than pink?” Breakfast replied with a toothy grin of her own, grabbing a box of blue-tinted dango regardless.

If there was such a color, she was sure this was one of the best places to find it.