"Peter, dear, have you gotten all of your bags inside?" She asked sweetly as the second equine came over to us.
But as he trotted our way, something about hearing her speak with such affection, looking at him come near with this genuine glimmer of love felt...strange. It was how honest she felt, something that made me look and double-take at him as he loudly munched on a handful of cheese puffs.
The only bags he brought in were vast hoards of wrapped junk food that he carried underneath each arm, clearly attesting to a large gray potbelly that bulged out from his shirt and hung down over his belt, crimping up the fly of his khaki shorts. He was just a plain horse without any wings or some other kind of whimsical feature, with a silver coat that melded with black along his head and arms, and his portly appearance only seemed more like some average beer gut than the trophy of a wealthy lifestyle.
What was truly disturbing, though, what really irked my mind was that, from the moment he'd stepped into the lobby, he barely raised his head up to embrace his very first moment of being able to breathe in the air of the most expensive spot in all the world, instead looking down as he thoroughly licked the cheese off his fingers.
"This, as you can see, is Peter Bestwick!" She leaned in with her lips puckered up, but it took some time for him to notice her as he struggled to rip open up a new bag of chips, and he merely caught her out of the corner of his eye before turning his head to give her a quick peck. "...soon to be Mr. Grove!"
Peter looked my way and gave a curt nod before burying his snout back into the chip bag.
"...of course." I spoke, shaking off my doubts and putting back on my charmer tone. I pulled out my lighter and flipped open the screen, typing her name in. "Well, Miss Grove, if you'll follow me, I'll lead you over to your room. I'll have our staff take care of your bags, but first things first, it looks like the two of you are reserved to stay at the..."
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