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ghoulaid) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
undergrounds2017-01-03 07:15 pm
ghoulaid) wrote in undergrounds2017-01-03 07:15 pm
[ota]
1. PEST CONTROL (random street encounters/OPEN)
The day is nicer than Ghoul expected. A little cloudy, but not as bitterly cold or ice-hazardous as he assumed London would be. Still, he's bundled up in at least a couple layers of clothes because, frankly, fuck anything below 60 degrees. He looks a little comical, plodding along the sidewalk in his ridiculous puffy coat, a scarf devouring half his face, and a small dog prancing around his heels.
Wait, what the fuck.
Ghoul's partway down the block before he realizes he has company. It's a tiny, ugly thing in a fucking sweater that yaps whenever he stops to look at it, and it won't go away. No matter what shooing and direction-changing techniques he uses against it, it's still right there, lunging after him with its yipping and bouncing gradually increasing in intensity. He normally doesn't have this not-listening issue with dogs, being a werewolf and all. He's like the king of dogs, okay, but this little bastard has balls of steel beneath that lavender argyle. And that just won't do.
He backtracks, confronting anyone who may be even be remotely responsible for the animal- people sitting outside cafes, lingering in a group somewhere, on a bench, waiting for a crosswalk signal. Everyone in the area will, eventually, have him storm up and ask, "Is this yours?" while pointing at the pastel abomination below.
2. THIS IS MINE NOW (coffee shop/OPEN)
Ghoul had specifically waited for evening to roll around before hitting up this little coffee place, hoping to avoid a rush. Fail on that count. From what he can gather, 5PM is a great time to huddle around in shops and wait for traffic to fuck off.
He sees the logic in it now, but that doesn't mean he appreciates it. Not when he's stuck in a small crowd of too-close bodies clumped around the pickup area and waiting for his order to be called. There are a few names shouted in rapid succession soon enough, including the fake one he'd given the cashier. In his haste to get out of there, he grabs a cup from the almost entirely identical line of them, then makes off with it without a second glance.
It's not his order after all, but whatever. He'll figure that out at some point.
[ or pm/pp/throw your own starter at me! ]
The day is nicer than Ghoul expected. A little cloudy, but not as bitterly cold or ice-hazardous as he assumed London would be. Still, he's bundled up in at least a couple layers of clothes because, frankly, fuck anything below 60 degrees. He looks a little comical, plodding along the sidewalk in his ridiculous puffy coat, a scarf devouring half his face, and a small dog prancing around his heels.
Wait, what the fuck.
Ghoul's partway down the block before he realizes he has company. It's a tiny, ugly thing in a fucking sweater that yaps whenever he stops to look at it, and it won't go away. No matter what shooing and direction-changing techniques he uses against it, it's still right there, lunging after him with its yipping and bouncing gradually increasing in intensity. He normally doesn't have this not-listening issue with dogs, being a werewolf and all. He's like the king of dogs, okay, but this little bastard has balls of steel beneath that lavender argyle. And that just won't do.
He backtracks, confronting anyone who may be even be remotely responsible for the animal- people sitting outside cafes, lingering in a group somewhere, on a bench, waiting for a crosswalk signal. Everyone in the area will, eventually, have him storm up and ask, "Is this yours?" while pointing at the pastel abomination below.
2. THIS IS MINE NOW (coffee shop/OPEN)
Ghoul had specifically waited for evening to roll around before hitting up this little coffee place, hoping to avoid a rush. Fail on that count. From what he can gather, 5PM is a great time to huddle around in shops and wait for traffic to fuck off.
He sees the logic in it now, but that doesn't mean he appreciates it. Not when he's stuck in a small crowd of too-close bodies clumped around the pickup area and waiting for his order to be called. There are a few names shouted in rapid succession soon enough, including the fake one he'd given the cashier. In his haste to get out of there, he grabs a cup from the almost entirely identical line of them, then makes off with it without a second glance.
It's not his order after all, but whatever. He'll figure that out at some point.
[ or pm/pp/throw your own starter at me! ]
so you need more people to harass with a dog right
The absurdity of it is enough that Eames has to pause at the question, (or the demand for an answer, rather,) obviously thrown for a moment before he shakes his head and raises an eyebrow with an emphatic, "no, it's not," glancing from this surly kid (young man, whatever) to the dog.
If anything he seems more sympathetic to the dog's plight here, getting down on a knee and making a gentle shushing noise as he pulls a glove off and coaxes it to him, lavishing the little thing with affection now it's shut up for a second.
"Where'd you find it?"
absolutely!! everyone needs to know that the dogstruggle is real
The sudden peace and quiet is a bit of a system shock. He stares dumbly at the two for a bit, nearly jumping when he realizes he's left a question unanswered. "It started followin' me while I was up the road." Just came out of nowhere, apparently.
He tucks his hands away in the pockets of his coat after giving his scarf a tug upwards. It ends up covering most of his mouth, which likely only makes him look even smaller. "You supposed to be some kinda dog whisperer or something?"
no subject
It is loving the petting it's getting right now, but its eyes are firmly fixed on Ghoul. Almost like it wants him to get in on this action or something. "Must be attracted to your fluffy undercoat."
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Well, sort of. Whatever intense eye contact they may have had ends up broken a few times by Ghoul casting meaningful glances up at Eames while he does his thing- as if wordlessly telling the dog no, look at him. It's not really working. All that seems to be happening is a lazy tail wag every time Ghoul's gaze returns to the animal's face. Rebellious little piece of shit.
The scowl on his face is quickly washed away by the brief, panic-fueled sensation of being dunked in cold water. Eames' innocent sounding statement catches him by surprise, and he's quickly looking the man over again like he's missed something. "Uh, what?" Eames doesn't particularly smell like anything out of the ordinary. Then again, Ghoul can only really pick out wolves, vampires, and sometimes certain shifters. Those aren't the only beings out there, he knows, but it still kind of weirds him out to know that some of them can blend in so easily while he is, somehow, still so obvious.
Shit ain't fair.
no subject
The dog is still staring, tail flicking excitedly whenever Eames pets the right spot, but all its attention is on Ghoul. Must want to be closer, right? Yeah, he'll just help with that. He scoops the dog up with one arm, other hand scratching lazily under its chin, and holds it approximately face-height so it can look at its new BFF here properly.
no subject
Sure, he'd snatch it up if it were about to run in to traffic or something, but that doesn't mean he wants to, like... snuggle with it. Or have it kiss all over his face when he just knows it has chewed on its own ass at some point today.
But maybe if he humors them both, Eames will put it back down. Ghoul looks from his face and then back to the dog, rolling his eyes before reaching out. It takes some maneuvering to dodge the tongue furiously lapping at the air, but he manages to sneak in and give the thing a couple pats on the top of its head. "There, you both happy now?"
no subject
Hilarious as it is, it doesn't solve the whole lost property issue, and Eames isn't about to carry a stranger's dog around all day.
"Can't say I care that much, but it doesn't seem especially satisfied." He lifts the thing with both hands to turn the dog and look it in the eyes, which supplies no answers but a little snap of its jaws and some lip licking. So at least it's happy. "Which way were you going when you noticed it?"
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"Why? You got another trick for me?" Of course the help would be appreciated, but from the way Ghoul is looking at him, it's clear that the question is also functioning as a way for him to suss Eames out. See what he is and what the hell he can do.
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Anyway. He gestures the direction Ghoul came from before he so rudely accosted Eames, "this the way you were going when you noticed it?"
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"Wow, you're real sharp, mister." He's laying it on a little thick there, only because he's starting to slowly realize he's caught up with two difficult and mouthy creatures. At least only one is wearing an ugly sweater.
Ghoul's face remains slightly screwed up in a somewhat peeved expression, but his voice is much less over-the-top and sarcastically starstruck when he answers this time. "Yeah, that's the way."
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He turns to walk the way, ignoring the sarcasm in favour of cradling the dog in an arm while it lolls its head about to get a look at Ghoul. Poor thing doesn't understand it's not making any werewolf friends here today.
"The jumper's designer," which is probably a shock to no one. Rich people love ugly clothes. "Probably belongs to someone who likes to flaunt their money."
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It'd be easier to take off and leave Eames to it, but he feels a little responsible for the stupid dog now. He can't just leave it with a stranger. Plus, he can't resist the temptation to tease it now that it can't get to him. He slowly inches a finger closer and closer to the dog's nose as if he's planning on poking it, except just as he gets near enough for the dog to stretch out and lick, he pulls his hand back again. And he proceeds to repeat the motion a few more times as they walk. It's keeping them both entertained, okay.
"You think this is one of those expensive show dogs? I mean, if it is, no wonder it made a jailbreak." Ew, he's not supposed to feel sorry for it... but... well, he can see where it's coming from.
This time, he addresses the dog directly, "You just wanna be the wild, ugly little fucker you were supposed to be, don't you?"