There's a man, a tall one, fairly quiet, who comes there with frequency; well-trimmed facial hair above his upper lip and along his strong jaw line, his defined brow surrounded by sandy blonde bangs that flip out along his temples. An undercut. It's not hard to recognise him; he's easy to identify. He usually peruses the store a bit, walking about idly as he bundles over-sized sacks of dog food into his arms to lug to the front, always with one mutt, of a large breed, like himself, with him. The dog he brings varies by the day; always to have it groomed and she thinks that's the point where he's the most talkative he likely ever is. He'll sniff things before buying them, comment on the chemical scent of certain diets, how he wouldn't feed that to anyone. She finds his heightened affliction for his olfactory senses both weird and somewhat charming.
Today, he brings a Great Pyrenees, and she decides she'll finally raise the point to him.
"You know, Sir, you can bring all of your dogs in at once. You come here almost every day to get one of your dogs groomed, it would save you a lot of time. If you want, of course."
He looks down at her and for just a moment, she's certain she sees a glint of surprise cross his thin, cool grey gaze. He nods along, rubbing one pointer finger over the bridge of his large nose rather swiftly.
"Hn. Yeah. It's just nice to take them for individual walks sometimes."
"Oh." The petite blonde with the wavy undercut stares up at him with her muted blue orbs, considering his words, a light upturn to her thin brow. She doesn't believe him.
"I have 12 so... they can be a handful all at once."
He swipes a finger over the bridge of his nose anew whilst she considers his stature; there's no way this man nearly twice her size and with such well behaved dogs couldn't handle them. She finds his nose swipe a somewhat peculiar behaviour; just like his sense of smell; peculiar, interesting-just as he is.
"Oh." She states it flatly, a brief silence growing between them before she elects to break it.
"Well, I'm off Saturdays... But you already knew that, right?" She smiles softly whilst a he glances down to the canine companion to his side, a thin smirk crossing his well-defined contours.
"So... six? The park? I go running."
His smirk converts to a silent, genuine grin; he's read in her scent before how active she is, it's simply nice to hear it confirmed. "All right,—"
"Nanaba." She answers rather directly to which he nods.
"Mike."
"Yeah, I know. You come here all the time." Petite hands make quick work of the back of his receipt and he smirks as he reads what she's scribbled. Cute font. Nanaba. (01582) 227783. "Really though, now that you've got my number, Mike, you could always bring your dogs in all at once."
"I'll consider it." No he won't.