IC CONTACT

[tacosgay]

✆CHANNEL FREQUENCY: 420.02742
DESCRIPTION: Taako will usually answer pretty quickly, unless he's working. Or he just doesn't want to.

✉MAIL BOX LOCATION: Mailbox on Door
DESCRIPTION: Leave your fanmail here anytime, and he'll be certain to go through it at the end of the day! (In the event that it's not, in fact, fanmail, he'll still see it, but you might not get a response in a timely manner. Or at all.)

Comments

[tacosgay]

... they were selling these things just... out there with the t-shirts and knick-knacks?

[Taako is on the edge of laughing, rolling the pills back and forth in his hand. He sets them down on the table, and then takes a seat at the table, crossing one leg over the other, gazing down at them.]

I mean, this is some "back of Fantasy Spencer's" stuff. Wild. Should I be honored that you saw this and thought of me?

[criticallyfucked]

[Foster has no idea what a 'Fantasy Spencer's' is, but he can tell that Taako is pleased, and that's sufficient for his purposes.]

I don't know, should you?

[Why would you ask Foster how you should feel, Taako?]

You're free to be insulted instead, if you want.

[tacosgay]

... nah. I, uh...

[This is weird. He hesitates for a long moment, looking over at Foster.]

Thanks...?

[It's weirdly earnest. He's obviously amazed that Foster thought enough of him to get him a gift.]

1/2

[criticallyfucked]

Don't thank me.

[You should have expected that, Taako.]

2/2

[criticallyfucked]

[You should thank the caravan for not asking what 'vore' was and getting Foster kicked out.]

[tacosgay]

Got it.

[He grabs the shirt, and pulls it on over his head, reaching to pull his thick mane out of the neck after he's got it securely pulled on. Somehow, Foster managed to guess what size would actually fit his considerably softer companion.

He grins at Foster, wiggling his eyebrows.]

Eh? Eh? How's it look?