For screamin-towards-Apotheosis who asked: Pydia, people watching and judging bad shoes.
Here there be aromantic!Lydia.
000
She and Peter sit in one of the many cafe's that seem to litter Barcelona enjoying their drinks and watching people pass to and fro. She lounges back in her chair eyes critical behind her sunglasses. A woman walks past, talking rapidly in Catalan and Lydia's eyes zero in on her feet. "Oh dear God, pleather? Sweetheart your suit deserves a lot better than that."
Across from her Peter chuckles. "Shall we stop her and tell her we're the fashion police?" He arches an eyebrow and almost too casually takes a sip from his coffee. The too casualness makes sense when a second later he catches one of her legs with his own.
"Not when I'm apparently trapped." She arches an accusing eyebrow of her own. If he goes any further down that path she's going to have to make a note of it since footsie isn't in the list, not even in the sexy way.
He takes another sip of his coffee. "True, though for a moment there you did look like you were going to jump out of your seat and rip those abominations off her feet." His legs don't do anything more, and while she doesn't relax, not that she was tense in the first place, she does just stop thinking about it.
She smiles, "please, I'd be doing her, and the world, a favor." Delicately she picks up her own neglected chai, turning the mug this way and that, watching the now deflated foam swirl around. Bringing it up to her mouth she takes a sip, glad it hasn't gone too cold. As she lowers her mug her attention turns back to the crowd.
"And her?" Peter's good at pointing things and people out in such a way that you know exactly what he's gesturing at.
Lydia gives the woman a critical eye. "Her dress' tailored, well too." She has a brief and fleeting hope the woman'll move closer, but no such luck. "And I think I want her boots." Her attention goes back to Peter. "If we finds those boots in a shop you're buying them for me."
Which gets another raised eyebrow out of Peter. "Oh really?"
"Mmmhmmm. If you do I might get you that jacket you've been drooling over." They've been here three days, and in that time they've 'passed' the shop that contains said jacket at least nine times, not counting the initial first 'meeting'. Peter can be so obvious with his attentions some times.
"Depending on the cost of the shoes that might not be a fair exchange." He finishes off his coffee and shuffles it and it's saucer off to the side.
Lydia waves a hand, "well if so we can work out the difference later." For her it's tantamount that all things be equal. "But yes, boots for jacket." She sets her own mug down, extracts her leg and sits. "Now come on I actually want to get to the Marès Museum today."
He gets up and offers her his arm. She looks at it for a few moments but doesn't take it and just starts walking. Behind her Peter huffs and easily catches up.