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Outside of the dream, he easily gets cold. On Penacony, or even in the heavily monitored rooms of the Reverie, there was rarely wind, even more rarely cold, and never to this degree.
Luofu is, of course, also an artificial environment, but at some point Xianzhou natives took a different path, one that instead of perfect weather, kept up with the cyclical patterns of the seasons, from scorching summer to a chilly autumn morning. The latter was definitely not one of Sunday's favorites, not with the wind lashing and messing up the locks of his hair and ruffling the tender feathers near his neck, and definitely not with the unexpected cold rain that caught him without an umbrella making him look like a pitiful stray. He still tried to smooth down his looks even a little bit before entering the little place on the outskirts of the Starskiff Haven, a little cafe opened by two immigrants from some faraway IPC infested planet.
“You would expect that with having closely programmed the weather patterns, the weather forecast would have at least a degree of precision,” Sunday complained in an even tone of voice, trying to keep it conversational, even as his guide laughed. At least the tea he was offered upon arrival, mixed with milk and an indulgent amount of sugar, was warming up his hands.
“Now, now, where would be the fun in that if we could predict rain up to the minute?” General Jing Yuan smiled, not in the least placating as he leaned back in his seat, fluffy white hair even more fizzy than usual, capturing the moisture from the storm raging outside. “Hot drinks, at least, would definitely lose some of their charm.”
“I am not surprised to hear you of all people enjoy this kind of redundant pampering,” Sunday replied easily, knowing fully that Jing Yuan did not miss the slight flush creeping onto his cheeks. It was all the weather, he could try to defend himself, but even he could spot a battle that was hopeless. “The tea… drink is quite palatable. Thank you for suggesting it. Though, I cannot help but wonder - I did not expect you to enjoy something quite so non-traditional.”
Jing Yuan hums, sneaking out a cookie from the dessert tray and dipping it into a cup of hot puffergoat milk.
“Tradition all too easily lends itself to formality,” came an easy, drawled reply, smoother than silk. “Not always the best setting for a meeting amongst friends.”
It makes Sunday want to frown, the idea of being played so well. He does not give to the temptation, taking a sip instead, expecting the silence to make Jing Yuan squirm at least a little bit. It does not.
“...you are a hard man to read.” He finally says, setting down the cup once more, folding his hands in his lap instead - loosely, as not to show distress. “How long will you draw this charade out before you reveal your cards?”
Jing Yuan’s lips curve into a very satisfied, catlike grin. “Oh, we have been playing? I must have been distracted not to notice.”
Infuriating.
“General-”
A smooth interjection as another cookie was dipped in milk.
“Call me by my name, please. Titles are temporary, after all.”
Sunday scoffed, just a tiny noise, imperfection in the calm and peaceful mask. If he looked up, he knew he would see satisfaction in the warm golden eyes. Leaving was tempting, but the rain outside…
“You must have way too much leisure time to play games like this so often, Jing Yuan.”