i been thinkin bout bustin you

[jaguara]

yo Hillingdon Clan where u at

Home sweet dump.

It's a weird concept, the whole roof over his head thing. Don't get him wrong, it's not like he's never crashed on someone's couch or slept in an abandoned building. Grimmjow may have spent most of his life on the move, but he's not that much of an animal. It's the whole...reoccurence of it all that gets him. For as long as the shifter has lived, he's never known a singular place he always crawled back to. His parents never owned a house, slept wherever they could find shelter, and Grimmjow had been bouncing around the world so long, there was no desire to ever find 'home'.

So, finding consistent shelter at the Hillingdon House throws him off. He keeps telling himself it's just because it's safe, out of the way of prying eyes and only shared by people of like mind. Plus, the clan ain't so bad. So maybe...

He wanders the grounds, in and out of animal form, the want to always be moving still great even here. Even though he pretty much knows the lay of the land by heart, it never hurts to review.

ota - it's friday night somewhere

Some people make friends by bumping into them on the sidewalk or meeting on the train, by making bullshit smalltalk, pretending they care about this-that-and-so-and-so. Grimmjow makes friends by bar-hopping. Instead of finding common interests and hobbies to talk about, Grimmjow buys a round for everyone at the bar and challenges others to drinking contests. He doesn't have to give a shit about the weather or local-sports-team. By the time he's drank enough, he's everybody's friend.

Until he's not, which is fine, too. The shifter never turns down a chance to puff his chest out.

Tonight's one of those nights. He needs the chance to blow off some steam, break down some barriers, maybe get in a fight or two. Who knows where he'll be by the end of it. For now, he starts off in Pub-Whats-Its-Name on Street-Somewhere and buys a round for everyone seated at the bar.

come at me bro

[DO WHATCHU FEEL IN UR HEART]

Comments

ota

[titanocidal]

Eren's not partaking in the generously offered cheer. Alcohol does little for him, and he finds the ridiculous way it makes people act rather annoying. The only reason he's here tonight is because the pubs in this area have a strange habit of attracting supernatural types. And yes, by the smell of things, he's relatively sure he's found one. (Not that smelling anything other than human is a bad thing. Have you ever sniffed a human up close? Don't. They're gross.)

"You know," he starts, coming over to sit next to the shifter. "By the end of the night, most of them will be too drunk to even remember you. What's the point in wasting your money on 'em?"

[jaguara]

"Loose lips and all that shit, right?" Getting people drunk wasn't something Grimmjow did out of the kindness of his heart. He may not be the smartest person in any given room, but he had picked up a few things here and there. The most important being that getting others drunk or, at the very least, in their good graces, generally made them more talkative.

And nothing was as critical in a hunter's arsenal than information.

So he got tongues wagging, listened. Sometimes it was bullshit, sometimes it was gold. "Why do you care? Maybe I got cash to throw around, maybe I wanna make some friends. Don't you got a moon to howl at?" If humans smelled bad, werewolves--. Okay, maybe Grimmjow wouldn't sink them that low, but still, werewolves always had that musty, dog smell lingering around. Not as bad as a human, but close enough.

[titanocidal]

Eren fights back the urge to roll his eyes at the completely original wow-he's-never-heard-THAT-one-before level insult. "Must be hard to make friends with a face like that," he says, tilting his head a bit to look at the stranger's tattoos from a different angle.

"Whatever your deal is, just don't get any funny ideas." And you know what? On second thought, maybe he will take up the offer for that free drink. He waves the bartender over and orders a cherry soda.

[jaguara]

Look, Grimm never claimed to be an original thinker. His humor is still stuck in his twelve-year-old stage. Meaning he just scoffs and chuckles at the guy's choice. Cherry soda? Either he was just a straight-edge or secretly five.

"Friends are a liability," the shifter commented. To him, that was just facts. After all, the people who had come closest to being his friends, they had all just gotten themselves killed. "Gets enough people in my bed, though," he turned right around. "Anyway, I got no beef with you, Bingo."

[titanocidal]

Eren raises an eyebrow at the bed comment, but whatever snappy comeback he's about to say gets quickly set aside with the arrival of his soda.

You don't have to be five to notice that alcohol tastes like pee and gasoline (or what Eren imagines pee and gasoline would taste like, anyway). Why waste your time forcing down a drink that tastes awful when you could enjoy something sweet instead? "Good. I don't have one with you either, Garfield."

Or wait. Hm. He unapologetically leans in for a better sniff. "That is what you are, right? Some sort of cat?"