Hermes - Send Help!

The crashing noise didn’t raise any concern for Hermes, at first. Right then, he was simply enjoying his savory crepe filled with shredded boar meat and soft fish, and relishing the break between the numerous games available.  The fair was as lively as could be, and yells, chatter, and dings of prizes being won and thunks of games being played was standard for midday merriment. 

But the raised cry of alarm was unmistakable in its tone. That sounds suspiciously like Scott, Hermes thought, and despite his wish to stay in place, his curiosity won out, and he ambled his way on three legs toward where he heard the dismayed shout. Through the throng of reoseans and handlers, he made out a fluffy white coat dotted with black spots. The Reos in question was crouched, stomach fur dusted with dirt, beside a mangled booth. The frame of the tent seemed to be standing fine despite the shaky appearance, but the lining of the tent, made in a patchwork of seemingly-soft materials, was shredded. Seemed like the band of scattered mischievous imps was the culprit. Hermes gave a hiss of concern at the sight. Where was the handler for all these troublemakers? 

Hermes finished off his last bite of his crepe before going back to his standard walk— he could walk with three legs to eat just fine, but being on all fours again was always preferable. He sidled up to scott, and frowned a bit before speaking. “Those imps did a number on your tent, huh Scott?”

Much like what he was frequently compared to, Scott whimpered like a kicked puppy as he took in the damage to his booth. “I spent weeks on this tarp! I barely know how to sew too…” 

This year, Hermes knew that Scott opted to stitch up his tent himself— Hermes should know, because he definitely recognized the bolt of canvas fabric he mailed to Scott to add to his tent before the fair started. They’ve been exchanging letters after Scott found Hermes unwittingly stranded in Roenden last year.  The lively, overly-friendly reos was quick to make friends; Scott did his damndest to keep them too, so Hermes eventually warmed up to the sweet vay. Plus, Scott opened his home to Hermes during those long winter months, so win-win really. 

So seeing Scott so distraught definitely tugged at Hermes’ heartstrings. Hermes winced in consternation. Scott was usually known for being as easygoing as they came, but he was undeniably a soft touch. Scott loved to put his all in everything he did, and seeing the fabric he painstakingly made for his tent be ripped up like this must’ve been rough to deal with alongside the stress of the fair. 

He nudged the gentle male with his shoulder. “Chin up, Scotty-boy,” Scott turned to Hermes with dewy eyes, and a wordless, questioning whimper. Hermes answered his unasked question. “Fabric is meant to be mended after a while, anyhow. How’s about I help you patch it up for today, and then tonight I’ll help you stitch it up?”

Scott sniffled, but his eyes started to clear up in hope. “You’d really help me with this? But it’d take so long…” 

Hermes scoffed, but kept it lighthearted. “Not any longer than I took just to get out of your hair last year! From a friend to a friend, I’d be honored to help you get your booth up and running again.”

Scott’s answering smile was as bright as his tail wag, and he jumped up with a noticeable spring. “Thank you, thank you Hermes! Oh, this is such a relief.” 

Hermes moved to pull some of the fabric into his maw. “No time like the present,” He mumbled around the soft cotton and silk. Scott mirrored his action, and the two got to work doing a quick patch job with some left-over string Scott had stored. The rips were long and noticeable, but some clever faux “hemming” would do the trick to hide the worst of it, for now. And Hermes was quick to kick away any of the straggling imps. Scott might be too lenient to shoo them away, but Hermes had no reservations in dealing with the hardy little varmints. 

Hermes, on his end, settled in for a long afternoon. He might be missing out on a few games today, but the chance to reconnect with a good friend (one he could count in his circle no less) was priceless.

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