Girls und Panzer: It's St. Gloriana and the Dimension Hopper!

23 - It's Booooring!

Arthur waited at the steps of the townhome. His foot tapped like a thumping rabbit, and his mind ran a bit faster than usual. For what it was worth, going out for a so-called "mind-clearing session" was a fine idea on paper, but Assam's ambiguous nature, typical of the character Arthur knew for the last couple of days, left a bitter taste in his mouth that spread slowly. Maybe mind-clearing was code for assassination. A result of overthinking, but dying in his pyjamas seemed boring. And scary, of course.

"...You okay?"

Arthur turned around, his thumping feet ceased immediately. Assam was staring directly at him. She wore glasses. Her tote bag was strapped around her right arm.

"Are you going to kill me?" Arthur immediately asked.

What a weird response; a normal person would scrunch their face or stare straight into their soul with a pounding sensation of what-the-fuckery.

Assam smirked, covering her mouth with her hand. "If I were to kill you, it'd be when you're wearing something nicer."

"That barely helps."

"When was I ever helpful to you?"

"...Come on, let's get a move on." Arthur got up, proceeding down the street.

Down the street and towards the first intersection, the cold morning air brushed through. They didn't wear gloves, and the wind rippled the tiny hairs on their hands.

Arthur felt a jolt crawl through his spine as he let out a slight whimper. "Ugh, this frickin' weather..."

"Have you considered getting a better jacket?" Assam asked.

"Well, my stuff got stolen, and my money. What could I do?" Arthur replied.

"Get a better jacket?"

Arthur looked unamused. "...Shut up, Ass," he bumped into Assam.

Assam bumped him back, albeit harder than usual.

"What was that for?" groaned Arthur.

"Your cringe nicknaming," Assam replied, ending with a slight chuckle. "Think of something more creative, and then I won't bump you."

After reaching the intersection, Arthur pointed at a trailer about a few yards away. Smoke flew right out from the little chimney.

"Ooh, I certainly could go for some crepes!" he said. "Shall we?"

"That place sucks." Assam's response was blunt and quick. "We can easily find something more delicious elsewhere."

"Is there another place with crepes then?"

"What is with you and crepes now?"

Eventually, they ended up in front of the crepe trailer. The smell of fresh batter wafted through the air, strategically coming out of a fan pointed in their general direction; a tried and true trick to lure patrons.

"You said you hated this place. Why are you lining up?" Arthur asked Assam.

"I never said I hated it. It just sucked," replied Assam. "There is a clear difference between sucking and hating, for your information."

"And that's...?"

"...Just order one for me."

"What's the magic word, Assam?"

"Stop treating me like a child."

"That's more than one word."

"Be quiet!"

"Still more than one word..."

The order: two crepes, both smothered with chocolate sauce and a large dollop of vanilla ice cream. They got it relatively quickly. On a cold weekend morning, it seemed crazy to be eating such a thing when the wind gusts blew like there was a storm.

Right behind the trailer was a small public park. An X-shaped path crossed the entirety of the park, lined with maple trees and plenty of green shrubbery. Orange and red maple leaves scattered the grass like confetti. The two spies, crepes in their hands, took their seats on a bench near the centre of the space between two large trees.

"Wow, this crepe's great!" Arthur said, a few bites in. "I don't know what you're on when you say this stuff is bad."

"Again, I didn't say it was bad, it just sucks," Assam reiterated.

Arthur looked over Assam's shoulder. There seemed to have been more bites taken from her crepe than his own. Rather funny.

As they continued to bask under the trees and eat their fill, Assam spoke up suddenly, "...So, I have a question. If you are a spy, then why don't you use a nickname?"

"A nickname?" Arthur asked. "I... guess I don't need one?"

"So you just resort to using your real name?"

"Arthur could be a fake name."

"So your name is not Arthur?"

"No, my name is Arthur!"

"So you don't have a nickname!"

"What's yours then?"

"Assam."

"Wait, that's not your real name?"

"Are you kidding? Why would I be named after a tea?" Assam took a bite of her crepe and mumbled her words. "Andf fwankly, I brdon't grive ba ship aboutf ift."

Arthur was rather unamused. "Don't speak with your mouth full."

Assam swallowed her food. "I don't give a shit," she replied.

They looked towards the path in front of them. Two pigeons wandered together, eating the nuts scattered throughout the brick floor. No one else seemed to be watching, or even in the park at the moment. And like those two pigeons who were at peace, the two spies sat quietly. Nothing was wrong with the rustling of the leaves or the mourning doves singing their song in the distance, but one thing was for certain: this was boring.

But, that's life sometimes. Not every day is a grand adventure or a daring journey. Sometimes, slowing down and taking a deep breath in nature is the way to go. As Arthur leaned back on the bench, Assam put her head on his shoulder. He looked up and noticed the leaves moving in the breeze, the sunlight piercing through the branches, and the clouds moving away to reveal a blue sky.

His exploits the last couple of days were tiring and frustrating. He had completely forgotten what a life without excitement felt like. And as he hunkered down to the sights and sounds of nature, he let out a sigh of relief and a smile formed on his mouth.

And for once, Arthur was at ease.