Cherry couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at that comment because...why would she pay someone else to look at him? Ah, probably best not to ask and just be glad for the company, and man was he glad for it. Aside from her strange looks, Elon was pretty normal. Or at least more normal than what he'd been used to for the past week or two. Then again, perhaps he didn't really have the right to talk about what was normal or not because he wasn't exactly the poster child for it, having grown up with some incredibly eccentric parents in an equally eccentric little hick town. At least, that's what he thought of it as, but he also supposed normal was a relative term. In any case, green and pink hair was nothing to him anymore. He'd seen weirder. Like Peach. A cross-dressing man that was more gorgeous than most women. It was really pretty scary to Cherry, and he couldn't help but shudder a little.
He still couldn't believe he'd kissed a man. Ugh.
"That's reassuring," he told Elon with a wry grin as he followed her to her shop, not at all minding walking arm in arm with her and more than thrilled at the female companionship. Real female companionship as far as he knew--she did have a chest, after all. Not that he minded male companionship, he was just a little skittish for the time being after getting his ass grabbed on more than one occassion, not to mention the oh-so-funny jokes the brothel workers liked to play on him. For one, his bedroom, he had quickly discovered, had no lock.
Yeah. One could do the math on that one. He planned on fixing that soon, in any case.
The shop soon came into view, and Cherry's green eyes drifted up to the sign that was hanging there. Watermelon's Produce. Cherry blinked. Huh. That was a...strange name for a produce shop. It was kind of redundant, for one, because why would anyone name a produce shop after, well...produce. Oh well, he wasn't going to comment on it! It was unique at least and--wait a minute. Watermelon. Pink and green. Elon had pink and green hair. Elon...Watermelon...well, Elon rhymed with melon...was it an attempt to be ironic, perhaps?
He'd go with irony. Because...Watermelon. No one could be named Watermelon. Granted, his name was Cherry and he worked for a man named Peach and knew a man named "Musmel", which was short for Muskmelon, which was all crazily coincidental, but come one. There couldn't be four people all within a few blocks of each other that all had cruel parents and horribly fruity names...could there? Or was this town just secretly insane, too?
Following Elon inside, he was politely quiet as she went about her business, puttering around and setting things up, and while she busied herself with her shop Cherry glanced around curiously, absently brushing some red hair from his eyes. Or rather, eye, because his bangs had an annoying habit of flopping over his right eye, though the other side behaved itself for the most part. He didn't mind, though; it was annoying, but it also helped to cover up his cherry tattoo, which he had a sort of love-hate relationship with. He loved it when the women crooned over it, because apparently it was cute and made him appear sensitive or something, but he hated it when the men noticed it and...apparently decided he was effiminate.
Of course, for the most part, he hated being regarded as "cute," but there were exceptions to every rule!
Cherry was just leaning in to smell the coffee--he loved the smell, he just hated the taste--when Elon suddenly grasped his wrist, taking him off guard for a moment and making him gasp lightly, and then nearly causing him to stumble when she unceremoniously began to tug him away. He quickly caught his balance and, blinking rapidly, he followed after her toward the kitchen. Jeez. She certainly was rather pushy, but he wasn't complaining, it was kind of amusing, actually, to be around someone so lively and energetic. Though, he did have to wonder what he was helping he ma--OH! The stew. That's what she was talking about, right?
"The stew you mean?" he asked just in case as he followed her. Oh boy. Hopefully she didn't expect him to know much about making stew because, while he could cook, what he could cook revolved around pastries and sweets. Probably a random talent for a guy like him to have, but he'd always had a bit of a sweet tooth and, honestly...he saw no shame in knowing how to bake. And enjoying it. He just didn't tell most people that because it wasn't very...manly. Still, it was his guilty pleasure.
Soon enough he'd followed her into the kitchen, finally stopping when she stopped.
And then nearly choking with laughter at what she said next, his eyes drifting over to the aprons she had been looking at.
Gods.
Well, Elon was pretty much right. It wasn't like it was the first time he'd ever worn an apron--though his had been white, not pink and...flowery--but it wasn't like he could back down and decline after she said something like that. Psha. Of course he was secure in his sexuality. And it also wasn't like anyone was in here but the two of them. Shaking his head and smirking in amusement, Cherry just feigned a sigh and strolled over to where the aprons were hung, snatching up the sunflower one.
"I think I'll go with sunflowers. They're more manly," he told her with a wink, fastening it around his waist. Gods he felt ridiculous, and even though he didn't mind wearing it because he was secure, he still couldn't help but think about Elon's other, ah, customers. The ones that apparently groped her. That wouldn't be happening as long as he was around--honestly, didn't those guys ever get taught proper manners?--but he sure as hell wouldn't be cutting an intimidating number wearing this. Hell. Someone might try and feel him up under his apron. "Though if I'm gone very long, I might get caught anyway so getting splashed on might not matter in the end, but...I'll think up an excuse. Not like I've never worn an apron. Still, I gotta ask...blood, Elon?"
The question of why her shop was called "Watermelon's Produce" was also at the front of his thoughts, but blood...that was just a little more...unnerving.