Hot-Tamale-Jamalee

Though it hadn't really been that long since summer had come, Rialto could feel the change in the air all the same. He knew it was just the scent of dead leaves falling and rotting, but it still held a certain nostalgia...excitement even, for him. It meant playing in the leaves for young pups (and maybe himself, not that he would ever tell anyone that particular fact). It meant piping hot drinks and warm gatherings by the fire were soon to come, and despite Rialto's preferred relative solitude, he couldn't help but feel the yearning to cuddle up with someone–maybe multiple someones even–and feel safe and comforted with them. Shaking his head to clear his mind, Rialto hopped down off of the windowsill he had been observing the fall colors from and went to retrieve a suitable cloak and scarf for his short outing to a cozy little shop that wasn't too far from his own residence. The change never failed to fascinate him, trees going from swaths of green to stands of fire all in the process