Eidolic
Alfred blinks owlishly at Arthur as he stands, narrowing his blue eyes into slits. "Arthur, where are you going?"
Oblivious, Arthur stands with a smile. "Oh, I baked some scones to go with your tea, lad. I'm sure you'll feel better if you eat someth—"
Alfred yelps and cowers under his blanket.
"Please don't feed me the scones, I'll be good," he whimpers.
Arthur positively deflates. "You hate my scones that much?"
Alfred peeks warily out of his blanket fort and sneezes. Seeing the look on his friend's face, he concedes, "Don't want them right now, s'all."
Arthur smiles.
Posted: July 11, 2016
Word Count: 100