The boy is back in town

[constantprisoner]

[A]
After years of imprisonment, freedom is amazing.

Even now, even though it's been a few days, he still can't get over the feeling of being back in the world. Being around people and breathing fresh air (as fresh as a city can manage anyway). Sirius trots along the street and back alleys, keeping up the act as a stray dog and generally trying not to be noticed. He'd forgotten how easy it was.

However, his ability to enjoy himself is currently at war with the realization that he's pretty vulnerable. It's been twelve years and he really has no information about what the city is like. He has no idea if he has any friends left, or if there's anyone in this city who would be willing to help him. He needs allies, he needs information, he needs clothes.

Food should probably be added to that list now. Sirius can't recall the last time he ate a decent meal. (not counting the garbage can he raided out of desperation).

For now though, he needs rest. He's been on the run constantly and all of that energy has finally caught up with him. He collapses under a tree in a park, and from a distance, it might look like he's dead.

[B]

Information and allies will likely have to wait for a bit until Sirius can reorient himself in the city. Clothes and food, however, are slightly more accessible. Thankfully someone's got their laundry out on the line, and he can smell a few things from a garbage that he would be able to stomach. Desperate times call for desperate measures that he's actually thinking of doing that a second time.

[ooc: Sirius can be caught doing either in Option B]

Comments

A

[detectiveofthewest]

Heiji knelt down under the shade, shouldering his bag and peering over at the collapsed dog. Dog, not wolf... for once.

"Hey, you keep lyin' around here and someone's gonna call animal control on you." Case in point: a middle-aged woman looking suspiciously at him as she walked her Pomeranian on past. Heiji waved cheerily at her -- nothing to see here.

B

[chosetofight]

"There's a better one a few blocks over."

Wanda offers the advice as she sees the man looking into the bin. It's quiet, simple, and she keeps her distance. Just in case. Nonetheless, it's true.

"Bakery. They throw out the stale bread every night. Pile all the pieces on top of each other."

Because, well, stale bread wasn't bad compared to not eating. It was certainly not the worst source of bin food. Which she was accustomed enough to eating.

Her accent marks her as a foreigner easily, which might explain why she has no recognition of who this man is or what he's accused of having done. Instead, she just sees someone like her -- alone and on the street.

A

[acrookedchild]

Abigail enjoys her walks. Of course, they require her to be especially vigilant, as all manner of things can occur on her rounds about London. She's usually pretty safe. Today's no different, and she's enjoying a bottle of water (tucked into the messenger back over her shoulder) and the remains of a carry-out bowl of salad. Lunch on the go because she hadn't wanted to stop and sit down.

When she sees the dog with no owner in sight, she doesn't get too close. Approaching a strange animal? Good way to get bitten. And that is something she'd like to avoid. Still, she takes another bite of her salad before emptying the few mouthfuls left onto the grass and setting down the bowl. Then, she pours half of the remaining water into the bowl that had salad in it.

Then, she continues on her walk.

[ B ]

[warmheartedly]

Oh no. While she disagrees with Mr. Tuppen and his opinions at times, especially his thoughts on music, she doesn't think he deserves to have his laundry taken away from.

What can she do though? The man seems quite absorbed in taking the clothes and she doesn't think she can attempt with how she can't interact with solid objects all that well. Especially when so far from her anchor. So the most she can do is move closer and peer behind a bedsheet that was also hung up, watching the man with a puzzled frown on her face.

"Ohhh. That's not a good idea," she observes, a little worried. "Those are his nice button up shirts too. He's going to give hell to the poor Neighbourhood Watchers for this."

B;

[alethiological]

First a teenager stuck in the storm drain, now a grown man scouring the dumpsters. There's a very long moment here that could be spent hating one's own life choices, because who in their right mind picks an apartment with such shady dumbasses loitering about.

But it's cheap, so this actually a completely acceptable scenario and there is no judging the garbage diver for his life choices. Except that he's in the way, but whatever. "You might be better off trying at night. Less people to catch you in the act,"

And less people to call the cops on him.

A

[emotioneater]

When Cooper first sees the dog, he's sure it's dead. It's just lying there under a tree instead of running around or sniffing things or peeing on bushes or any of the other one hundred things normal dogs do. The few people in the park are giving the giant carcass a wide berth. If it's dead, they want no part of it, and if it's alive, there's no way they want to approach a dog of that size.

Cooper has no such reservations. Unless this thing has teeth made of silver or wood, there's no way it's going to hurt him. He boldly walks up to it and examines it from less than a foot away. Nope, it's still alive. He can see its chest slowly moving up and down. "Poor feller. You must've come quite a ways."

B

[entitles]

"Are you certain that's going to fit you?" Balem said, "It seems a bit small, and you wouldn't want to risk getting caught for nothing."

Not that Balem made a habit of turning in random thieving vagrants; human property was no concern of his, but he did enjoy teasing them every now and then.