Double Date with Korra, Bolin, Bran's Cock, and Korra's Pussy [pt. I]

“Come to Narook’s with me,” Bolin said. His grin widened as Korra’s eyebrows climbed. “Bran too, obviously. You and me can get noodles, and Bran and your pussy can... do whatever they do.”

For several seconds, Korra could only stare at him. Asami covered her mouth, but the laugh escaped anyway. Mako stood beside her with his arms folded and a fresh crease between his eyebrows.

“Bran said that?” Korra asked.

“Almost exactly. He used more swears.” Bolin rocked on his heels, still pink from the match and shining with enough hope to light the locker room. “He said us earthbenders have to look out for each other.”

Korra glanced toward the corridor leading to the Rabaroos’ locker room. Bran had disappeared through it after the exhibition, leaving three defeated women to follow him as soon as the match ended. The memory of Adi bouncing on his cock still needled her. Umi had taken his arena load, too, while Korra had received one quick mouthful when he stopped at the Fire Ferrets’ side to have himself cleaned.

The complaint died before it reached her mouth. Not long ago, Bran had sprawled across the stolen couch in their Cabbage Corp truck and hammered on the driver’s wall whenever Korra needed a new man. He had watched Rijunn fuck her with a lazy grin, barked advice when the boy started losing his rhythm, and only thrown him bare-assed into the street after Korra had been paid. Korra could hardly sulk because Bran had enjoyed the Rabaroos.

Her pussy cared nothing for fairness. It had clenched through the match each time Bran’s cock disappeared into one of the Rabaroos, jealous of every inch and every drop. A noisy meal with Bolin would keep her from brooding over Mako, and Bran inviting himself meant she could take care of the ache between her legs at the same time.

“All right,” Korra said. “Team dinner.”

Bolin shouted and pumped both fists, startling Pabu inside the open locker. Korra laughed. Bolin could make ordering noodles sound like winning the championship, and his delight loosened something in her chest after Mako’s rejection.

“Korra, maybe you should think about this,” Mako said.

She turned on him. “It’s noodles, Mako. We eat together all the time.”

Mako’s jaw tightened. Asami slipped her hand around his arm, and the touch reminded everyone which woman he had chosen. Korra refused to look away first.

“I think it sounds fun,” Asami said. There was no smug little victory hidden in her voice, only the same easy warmth she had shown when she brought the new uniforms. “Bolin can turn a bowl of noodles into a festival, and you two already make each other laugh.”

Korra searched Asami’s expression for pity or a joke at her expense and found neither. Asami seemed genuinely pleased that Korra had something enjoyable to look forward to. That made it difficult to keep thinking of her as Little Miss Perfect, the beautiful rich girl who had swept in and stolen Mako without even trying. It honestly pissed Korra off more.

“You’re taking his side?” Korra asked.

“On noodles? Absolutely. Besides, if Bran is coming along, Narook’s won’t have to worry about the sauce shortage.”

The last observation caught Korra by surprise and made her laugh. Asami’s smile brightened in answer, green eyes holding Korra’s for a moment longer than the joke required. A small, confusing warmth fluttered through Korra’s stomach. She had felt something similar earlier when Asami complimented her shaved pussy and leaned close to ask about the nuns’ hair-removal cream.

Spirits, the woman was infuriatingly beautiful when she looked pleased with her.

“Thanks,” Korra said, the word coming out softer than she intended.

“You’re welcome.” Asami gave her arm an affectionate squeeze before settling back beside Mako. The touch was brief and friendly, but Korra remained aware of the warmth of her fingers after they were gone.

A deep laugh rolled down the corridor and broke the moment. Bran lumbered into view with his shirt over one shoulder and his trousers hanging open. Adi trailed several paces behind him wearing the bottom half of her uniform and carrying the rest in a bundle against her chest. Ula had wrapped herself in a towel. Umi followed them while waterbending white streaks from her hair into a collection bottle.

“Told you the fight would wait,” Bran said.

Ula glared at the back of his head. “You were the reason we needed the delay.”

“Sounds like an excuse from the losing team.”

Adi caught Ula’s wrist before the earthbender could swing at him. Umi gave Korra a small, embarrassed wave, then hurried after her girlfriends. Bran watched the three naked backs disappear around the corner and scratched beneath his belly.

The cock hanging from his open trousers was soft and freshly cleaned, yet it still reached well down his thigh. Asami’s eyes dropped and stayed there. Bolin shifted his weight as a new bulge pressed against his uniform, his gaze traveling from Bran’s heavy shaft to Korra’s hips. Mako followed the same path despite the scowl on his face. Korra caught both men looking, lifted her chin, and let them.

Korra’s jealousy lasted until Bran reached her. He hooked a hand around the back of her neck and pulled her against his belly. Sweat and the mingled scent of three women clung to him. His cock pressed warm and sticky against her stomach.

She slipped her hand beneath his open waistband and wrapped her fingers around the thick base. “I hear you invited my pussy to dinner.”

“Eyebrows asked if he could take you for noodles.” Bran jerked his chin at Bolin. “Told him I was coming too, in case he bored you.”

“I asked whether he minded me inviting you,” Bolin clarified. “I wanted to be respectful.”

Korra gave Bran’s shaft a squeeze. “I don’t need his permission.”

“Didn’t say you did.” Bran filled one hand with her ass and dragged her closer. His cock began to thicken against her palm. “Still polite of him to ask.”

Bolin hurried to settle the practical details before Korra could argue. “Narook’s Seaweed Noodlery. As soon as we wash up. I know it sounds casual, but they put tablecloths out for supper, so it counts as fancy.”

“Perfect.” Korra smiled at him over Bran’s shoulder, and his whole face brightened.

Mako turned toward the door. “Come on, Asami.”

Asami let him guide her away. Her eyes dipped to Bran’s thickening cock for an appreciative moment, then returned to Korra with a private little smile. “Enjoy dinner. Make Bolin order the challenge bowl. He’s been bragging that he can beat you.”

“He said that?” Korra looked toward Bolin with immediate competitive interest. “Oh, he’s going down.”

“I said I could finish one!” Bolin protested. “I never said anything about beating you!”

“Sure. Well, you’d better prove it after talking yourself up!” Korra tightened her grip around Bran’s cock until he grunted. Asami caught the possessive little act and laughed under her breath before following Mako out. Korra watched the graceful sway of her hips for two steps, caught herself doing it, and turned back to Bran before anyone noticed.

“Jealous women are a pain in the ass,” Bran said. He pulled open the front of Korra’s outfit and closed his other hand around her big brown breast.

“I’m not jealous.” Korra slapped his chest, but she didn't stop him from kneading her.

“Good. Go wash the arena off your tits.” Bran turned to Bolin. “And you, Eyebrows. Flowers. If you’re taking a girl to dinner, don’t show up empty-handed.”

Bolin nodded with the solemn focus he usually saved for a championship round. “Flowers. Got it.”

“Food for me, too.”

“I thought I was buying dinner.”

“Then you can afford flowers too.”

Korra rolled her eyes. “Don’t listen to him.”

“Bring dumplings,” Bran added.

“I said don’t listen to him.”

Bolin was already pulling on his coat. “Flowers and dumplings. I got it!"

---

Snow drifted through the light from the arena lamps when Korra stepped outside.

She had traded her uniform for low-slung dark trousers that rode beneath the strong flare of her hips, leaving the bright blue strings of her g-string exposed as they climbed high toward her waist. Up top, she wore a loose blue bra with cups scarcely wider than her palm. The narrow band of it covered her nipples and almost nothing else. The full upper curves of her breasts spilled over it while their round undersides hung bare below, swaying freely whenever she moved. A cropped blue jacket lined with white fur framed the arrangement without concealing it, hanging open from her shoulders like she had worn it for decoration instead of warmth. Bran waited under the awning in a clean shirt with most of its buttons done. He claimed the extra clothing was for the weather, but Korra counted the effort anyway.

Bolin came running around the corner with a paper packet under one arm and a cluster of winter camellias in both hands. His hair had been smoothed, his green coat was freshly brushed, and several red petals trailed behind him through the snow.

“Korra.” He stopped in front of her and presented the flowers. “These are for you.”

No man had ever brought her flowers. The realization caught Korra before she could prepare a joke, and warmth spread up her throat as she accepted them.

“They’re beautiful, Bo.”

“The woman at the stand said they mean admiration. She tried to sell me roses, but those cost twice as much and mean almost the same thing with more thorns.”

“Admiration fits. You were great in the ring tonight.” Korra laughed and kissed his cold cheek. Bolin’s blush spread so quickly that she could feel the heat against her lips.

“Good start, Eyebrows,” Bran said.

“I brought yours, too.” Bolin offered him the paper packet.

Bran opened it, found a dozen fried dumplings, and gave Bolin the most sincere look of approval he had managed all evening. “Knew I liked you.”

At the first crowded crossing, Bolin caught Korra’s hand and tugged her between two delivery carts. He kept holding it after the street opened again, and Korra let him. Bran followed close behind, eating dumplings and resting his free hand on Korra’s ass whenever he felt like it. Korra carried the camellias against her chest and listened as Bolin described the meal he planned to order in the same strategic detail Mako used for their matches.

Narook’s dining room was crowded and warm. Steam fogged the windows, and every table smelled of seaweed broth, pepper oil, grilled fish, and the nut sauce diners had brought or produced for themselves. A board beside the entrance listed the evening’s house donors. Most names had already been crossed out, leaving only two thin sauces available by the spoonful.

A petite waitress in a fitted blue wrap dress approached them. Her brown hair was braided with white beads, and the fur edging her low neckline framed a deep, soft cleavage. The name stitched onto her apron read NARI.

“Three for supper?”

“Three,” Bolin said. “We’re celebrating a win.”

Nari took in Korra’s flowers, Bolin’s hopeful smile, and Bran’s hand planted on Korra’s ass. “Back booth?”

“Good girl,” Bran said.

She led them to a curved booth near the open kitchen. Bran took one side and Bolin the other. Korra placed her flowers on the table and shrugged off her jacket, leaving the narrow bra band and all the breast spilling around it exposed to the warmth of the room. Bolin stared for a moment, then jumped up and tried to pull out her side of the curved booth as if it were a chair.

“Close enough,” Korra said, laughing.

She sat beside Bran. His fingers were already under her waistband.

“You ate all the dumplings,” she told him.

“Still hungry.”

“You could order first.”

Bran tugged her trousers down over her hips. “Could.”

Korra braced one hand on his shoulder and lifted while he worked her trousers and thong to her knees. She turned, settled between his spread thighs with her butt against his belly, and opened her legs over his. Bran freed his cock through the front of his trousers. It was already half-hard, thick enough to make Bolin’s menu dip as he watched.

The broad head rubbed through Korra’s slit once. Her pussy opened around him with a wet, eager gape that she felt all the way up her spine. Bran held her hips and brought her down in slow stages. Familiar as he had become, the first stretch still forced Korra to stop breathing. Her lips spread, her muscles yielded, and inch after heavy inch pressed into the space that had ached for him all evening.

When her ass settled on his thighs, Korra let out a satisfied sigh. The resentment left over from the Rabaroos dissolved at once.

Nari returned carrying tea, three cups, and an empty ordering pad. She noticed Korra’s discarded thong hanging from one knee. Then she saw the thick base of Bran’s cock beneath Korra’s raised ass, and a flush moved across her cheeks. Her eyes followed the bulge running up Korra’s lower belly.

“Drinks first,” Nari said. Her voice remained professional, though her nipples had hardened beneath the blue fabric. “Hot tea, rice wine, or something else?”

Bran looked from her cleavage to her hips. “You come with any of them?”

“That depends on the tip.”

He laughed and reached around Korra. His hand closed over Nari’s ass through her dress, squeezing until his fingers disappeared into the soft curve of her crack. Nari inhaled sharply and planted one palm on the table to steady herself. Bran drew her closer and kneaded with slow, testing pressure.

Nari shifted backward and settled more of her ass into his grip. “Confident customer,” she said, glancing over her shoulder at him.

“Good service gets a good tip.”

Nari glanced down at what he had buried in Korra. “You supplying fresh?”

“Best in the city,” Korra said.

“Everyone says that until the jar comes back with two watery spoonfuls.” Nari shifted her hips when Bran’s thumb pressed into the crease between her asscheeks. “House sauce is scarce tonight. If you want the fresh-donor discount, the kitchen gets a share.”

Korra planted both hands on the table and rose several inches. Bran’s cock slid partway from her pussy, exposing a long, wet section of shaft. She kept its head trapped inside, then reached between her thighs and gathered Bran’s hairy sac in both hands.

The weight dragged at her wrists. His balls were full again despite the arena, two huge dense shapes stretching the coarse-haired skin beneath them. Korra lifted the whole pendulous mass until it rested under her swollen pussy where Nari could see it clearly.

Nari leaned closer. Bran continued groping her while she studied what Korra had shown her, and her practiced restaurant smile became genuine.

“There’ll be enough for our bowls and some for the house,” Korra said.

Nari slid one palm beneath the raised sac. Her wrist dipped under the weight before she steadied it with both hands, pressing her thumbs into the coarse-haired skin and weighing each dense ball in turn.

“Heavy Sac,” she said, bringing in her other hand. “Spirits, these things could anchor a ferry.”

“Told you.” Korra grinned and lowered herself back onto Bran’s cock. “Warm a large jar.”

Nari gave the sac one final appreciative heft before withdrawing her hand. “Bigger the balls, better the sauce. The kitchen can waive your condiment charge if that thing fills past the blue line.”

“Bring two jars,” Bran said. “I ain’t stopping at a line.”

“One jar,” Korra told her. “The rest goes on our dinner.”

Nari pulled Bran’s hand from her ass, gave his thick fingers a playful slap, and raised her brush. “Then order before you flood my section.”

Korra chose seaweed noodles with roast eel. Bolin ordered the largest dumpling bowl on the menu, and Bran asked Nari to keep bringing plates until he said otherwise. She wrote everything down and returned to the kitchen with a little more sway in her walk than before.

Across the table, Bolin was staring with his mouth half open. Bran’s cock was mostly hidden inside Korra, but the visible base was wider than Bolin’s wrist. Each small shift of Bran’s hips made the bulge in Korra’s belly move.

Korra snapped her fingers. “Hey. I’m up here.”

“I’m trying,” Bolin said. His erection strained against the front of his trousers. “Seeing him inside you makes trying harder.”

“In both senses, apparently.”

Bolin laughed, embarrassed but honest. “It’s the size. You look like you’re sitting on an earth pillar.”

“Feels better than one.” Korra leaned forward, bringing her breasts closer to him. “Now tell me something I don’t know about you.”

He considered the request seriously. “I can imitate thirty-seven animals.”

“No way.”

“Thirty-eight if Mako before breakfast counts.”

Bolin puffed his cheeks and made a surprisingly accurate baby sky-bison call. Korra burst out laughing, then answered with a polar bear-dog growl. By the time Nari returned with their food, the two of them were arguing about which noise sounded more like Naga.

The conversation came easily after that. Bolin told her about performing on street corners with Pabu, sleeping with Mako in an empty shipping crate, and getting knocked unconscious during his first paid earthbending match. He acted out every person in each story, including Mako, whose voice became much deeper and more pompous in Bolin’s version.

“When Mako and I were wee little lads, we had this great routine,” Bolin said, hunching low over the table and narrowing his eyes in imitation of his brother. “He’d spot a well-dressed lady, snatch her purse, and run. Then I’d charge after him yelling, ‘Stop, thief!’ loud enough for the whole street to hear.”

He seized two chopsticks and made them duel above the bowls. “We’d duck into an alley and put on a huge earth versus fire battle. Mako blasted fire past my head, I sent rocks flying past his, and we shouted like we were trying to kill each other. Then I’d knock him out conveniently. He’d sneak out the back while I carried the purse to the lady and collected my heroic reward.”

Korra stopped with a bundle of noodles hanging from her chopsticks. Her amusement vanished. “You stole a woman’s purse so she would pay you for returning it? That isn’t funny, Bolin. Those women hadn’t done anything to you.”

Bolin lowered the chopsticks. “We were orphans living in alleys, Korra. Some nights we slept in a shipping crate. Some days we didn’t eat at all. Mako only picked women stepping out of cars or carrying bags from the expensive shops, and we returned every purse with every coin still inside. The reward was the only thing we kept.”

Bran chewed slowly. “Then you split it.”

“Fifty-fifty,” Bolin said. His smile had become smaller. “We were partners.”

Korra set down her noodles. “You still frightened people who thought they were being robbed.”

“Yeah.” Bolin rubbed his thumb along the edge of his bowl. “I’m not saying it was okay. I’m saying five copper meant Mako and I got supper. If the lady was generous, we got breakfast too.”

“Leave him be, girly,” Bran said. “I started with empty pockets too. When you’re at the bottom, you use whatever you’ve got. Those two had bending, quick feet, and a good act.”

Korra looked back at him. “I grew up in the Southern Water Tribe. We weren’t rich.”

“Never said you were.” Bran squeezed her waist. “Said you were protected. White Lotus found you, kept food in your bowl, put masters at your door, and told you that you were destined for greatness. Eyebrows and Stuffy little dick had an alley and each other. Ain’t an insult. Just different starting lines.”

Korra wanted to argue. The South had known lean years. She had grown up with patched furs, simple meals, and winter stores that everyone watched carefully. But she had always had parents, shelter, and a community. Once the White Lotus identified her, guards had stood outside her home and teachers had planned her future. She had never gone two days without food or wondered whether a shipping crate was safer than a doorway.

“You really put everything back?” she asked.

“Every coin,” Bolin said. “Taking something from inside the purse would have been stealing.”

Korra stared at him. “The whole thing was stealing.”

“Right,” he said after considering it. “But controlled stealing.”

A reluctant laugh escaped her. “I still don’t like it.”

“Fair,” Bolin said, accepting that without protest.

“But I understand. You were trying to survive.” Korra picked up her noodles again and pointed them at him. “Hungry little criminals.”

Bolin’s full grin returned. “Very convincing hungry little criminals. One lady gave me enough for three dinners and kissed both my cheeks.”

Bran kept one arm around Korra’s waist while he ate. His other hand alternated between her breasts, squeezing whichever one was closest. Every few minutes he drove his cock slowly upward, making Korra pause with noodles halfway to her mouth.

Bolin lost the thread whenever her breath caught. After the third time, Bran pointed at him with a chopstick. “Keep talking, Eyebrows. If a little pussy noise makes you forget your own story, you’ll never finish one around her.”

“I was checking whether she was all right.”

“She’s fine.”

Korra rolled her hips and felt Bran’s cock drag against every clenched inch of her. “He’s right. Keep going.”

Bolin did. He learned to watch her face without stopping, to wait through the deeper thrusts, and to recognize when Bran had pushed her too close to speak. Korra listened while Bran fucked her at the lazy pace of a man enjoying dinner. Her pussy received what it wanted, and Bolin gave the rest of her his full attention.

Her first orgasm built during a story about Mako fighting a goose-chicken over a steamed bun. Korra reached across the table and took Bolin’s hand. Bran pushed deep and held her there while pleasure tightened her body around him. Bolin watched her face, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles until the trembling passed.

“You good?” he asked.

“Very.” Korra caught her breath and squeezed his hand. “You’re sweet, Bo.”

The smile he gave her was softer than his usual grin. Korra felt a fond ache for him, easy and comfortable. It carried none of the restless hunger Mako stirred in her heart, and it did not resemble the deep physical pull Bran commanded lower down. She liked Bolin because he was Bolin. Tonight, that was enough.

Bran reached around her and stole a dumpling from Bolin’s bowl.

“Hey!”

“Dumpling tax.”

“You have four plates.”

“And now I got a dumpling.”

Korra laughed until Bran rolled his hips again and turned it into a moan. Then she remembered Asami’s warning and pointed her chopsticks at Bolin.

“All right. Time to prove that Challenge Bowl boast.”

Bolin glanced at her half-empty noodles. “Now? You’re already a bowl ahead!”

Korra raised one hand toward Nari. “Two Challenge Bowls!”

Bran ordered four more for himself. Nari rang the brass challenge bell, and half the dining room turned toward them while Bolin accused Asami of trying to get him killed.

Korra and Bolin attacked their food. Bran ate at the steady pace of a factory press, one hand still moving over Korra’s body. Broth splashed, noodles slapped cheeks, and Pabu crept from Bolin’s coat to steal strips of eel whenever nobody seemed to be watching.

Halfway through the second bowl, Bran’s fingers dug into Korra’s hip. His cock had grown even thicker, pulsing against her pussy as his breathing changed behind her.

Korra set down her chopsticks. “Close?”

“Been close since you started growling like that bear-dog.”

She kissed his cheek. “Hold it. I want it on the food.”

Bolin pushed his dumpling bowl forward before she could ask. “Mine too.”

“Good man,” Korra said.

She planted her boots on the floor and rose. Bran’s cock came free with a long, wet slide. It slapped against his belly, rigid and shining with her juices. The full length drew every eye with a clear view of the booth.

A woman at the next table squeezed her husband’s thigh. His cock tented his trousers as he stared at Korra’s spread pussy and the enormous shaft that had just left it. Two men at the bar shifted closer to their girlfriends. Nari stopped beside the kitchen door with the warmed collection jar in her hands, her lips parting as Bran’s cock rose between Korra’s thighs.

Korra stepped out of her pooled trousers and thong, dropped between Bran’s knees, and wrapped both hands around him. Her fingers could not meet. She dragged her fists from the heavy base to the flared head, then pointed him over her own bowl.

Nari hurried over and set the open jar between the two meals. “Fresh sauce at the back booth,” she called.

The dining room answered with scattered cheers. Korra kissed Bran’s glans and stroked him faster.

“Make it a good one, big guy. Bolin needs his pro-bender gains.”

“He can milk his own damn balls.”

“He brought me flowers. That earns him seasoning.”

Bolin held his bowl ready with both hands. “Best night I’ve ever had.”

Bran’s huge sac pulled tight. Korra felt the shaft swell and aimed it at her roast eel.

The first rope struck the fish hard enough to splash broth onto the tablecloth. Thick white sauce draped across the eel and dark greens, clinging in a steaming stripe. Korra laughed and swung his cock toward Bolin.

The second blast covered two dumplings and spread through the peppered broth. Bolin watched it settle with open delight. Korra redirected the next pulse into Nari’s jar, where it hit the glazed bottom with a wet slap.

“House gets another,” Nari said.

“After mine.” Korra pointed Bran back at her noodles.

Bran kept coming. Korra worked him with both hands, guiding each heavy spurt between her bowl, Bolin’s dinner, and the restaurant jar. White ropes glazed the dumplings, pooled around the eel, and coated the vegetables. Nari’s jar passed the blue line and kept filling.

At the next table, a woman slipped her hand into her husband’s lap while watching Bran’s cock pulse between Korra’s fists. His own shaft rose beneath the tablecloth, and he pulled his wife close enough to whisper in her ear. Two men at the bar rubbed themselves through their trousers while their girlfriends compared the distance between Bran’s head and Korra’s hands. A young server slowed with his tray held crooked, eyes fixed on the huge shaft until Nari snapped her fingers and sent him back toward the kitchen. Plates kept moving, noodles kept disappearing, and chairs edged closer together all around the dining room.

When Bran’s balls finally softened, Korra squeezed the last thick string into Bolin’s bowl. One drop caught the rim. She swept it up with her thumb and licked it before it could soak into the tablecloth.

Nari tasted the jar’s rim and closed her eyes for a moment. “That is Heavy Sac.” She fitted the lid and lifted the restaurant’s share. “No condiment charge. Oh spirits! That's rich!”

Bran reached for her ass again. Nari twisted away, laughing, and carried the jar toward a kitchen already setting out small cups for the surrounding tables.

Korra licked Bran’s cock clean, tucked the softening weight across his thigh, and returned to her seat. She stirred his sauce through the noodles until the broth turned creamy. Bolin did the same with his dumplings.

“This really is the secret to pro-bender gains,” he said after the first bite.

“All right, Bran. Inviting yourself was a good call.” Korra slurped a dripping bundle of noodles into her mouth.

“Damn right.”

The contest resumed. Bolin finished first, threw down his chopsticks, and released a triumphant belch. The nearest diners fell silent.

“Sorry,” he said.

Korra answered with a deeper belch that rattled the empty bowls. Several dockworkers near the kitchen cheered. Bolin’s eyes widened with fresh admiration, and he tried again. His second effort rose in pitch and ended with a squeak that sent Korra into helpless laughter.

Bran finished chewing. He leaned back and produced a roar from the bottom of his belly. Plates vibrated, the hanging lamps swayed, and Pabu dove into Bolin’s coat.

The whole restaurant applauded.

“You weren’t part of the contest,” Korra complained.

“Never said I was.” Bran patted his stomach. “Got room for dessert.”

By the time they settled the bill, Nari had returned twice to grope Bran’s drained sac and estimate when the restaurant should invite him back. Korra pulled on her thong and trousers before they left the booth, tucked the flowers beneath one arm, and followed Bolin into the snow covered streets outside.