undergrounds | You Only Hear The Music When Your Heart Begins To Break

Party's already been warned off of vampire territory a few times and for now he's willing to play ball, but that doesn't mean he's going to be happy about it, especially now that they've taken Greenwich. His career is pretty halted without access to the art galleries in their territory and he's taken to what some people might see as panhandling, but what he chooses to see as an entry-level artist position.

Lately, he's taken to setting up shop with his art outside train stops in various non-hostile areas. He's got a little cardboard display with postcard prints of his favorite pieces and a travel easel with a tip jar. Every day he finds a new stop to set up at and he starts to paint. If anyone shows interest, he'll offer commissions or even just chat with people.

In the evenings, he'll move to hipper places, outside of nightclubs and bars where he might catch the eye of others in the art scene. Most of his art focuses in the juxtaposition of nature imagery and neon colors, especially wolves and forests, but he'll branch out to anything that might interest him if it fits his style of bright contrasts an harsh shapes.

On more than one occasion, he takes advantage of the cover of night to paint over old tags and ruder graffiti with his own quick spray paint work, especially in alleyways that look like they could use a little love and a brighter palette.

[ OOC: Party can be found anywhere that would be non-hostile to werewolves for any of the above scenarios. His art is along the lines of this or this or this. If you're interested in a more specific starter for something, let me know! ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"I'm flattered, but I got a girlfriend, bucko." He leans back, shaking his head. Looks like nothing is going to get through Party's thick head. Oh well. Maybe he'll get stupid lucky and manage to survive this city without getting eaten alive.

He eyes the werewolf up and down, not in the 'I want you bad' way, more like he's trying to picture who Party reminds him of. Then it hits him. "Christ, but you remind me of me 'bout two hundred years ago. Before I got old and cynical." That's a bummer of a statement to make, so Cooper lightens the mood by winking. "'Course, I've also been this handsome since then."

"You saying I'm not handsome?" Party makes his best effort to look offended, but falls a little short as he's still laughing through it a little. Maybe Cooper's not so bad for an old man.

"I'd be more upset if I didn't feel bad for you with all your cynical moodiness. Is your girlfriend still in high school?" He flails in Cooper's direction. "Wait! Wait, are you still in high school? That would be sad."

Yep. Party's a completely incorrigible rascal. No wonder Cooper is reminded of himself. Those are qualities he possesses and likes to see in others.

"No, she's almost twenty, I'll have you know." He looks a little offended. After all, he wasn't about to go chasing jailbait, being one of those creepy eternal teenage vampires that supernatural literature seems to adore. At the second question, he looks a lot more offended. He already knows he looks like a kid. The mirror tells him that every day of his life. "Don't be rude, pup. And I will have you know haven't been in school since World War Two. It's a little thing called a fake ID."

"Most of us use those to drink when we're too young, old man."

He can't even tell if almost twenty is some kind of joke, but then again Party's not much older than that and he feels pretty adult at this point in his life. He's on his own and everything. Definitely a fully functional adult.

"You're cheating yourself out of perfectly good old people discounts. You know that, right?"

"Get pulled over by the truant officers every month 'n you'd start carryin' one around too." Cooper's been complaining about being eternally young pretty much ever since he got turned into a vampire. There's not many advantages to being an eternally young, short creature of the night that feasts on blood. Not that Cooper wanted to die at age seventeen. He just would have preferred being a little older before being turned into a vampire.

"Riiiight. I'm so sure the movie theater is gonna believe I'm over two-hundred so I can get in as a senior." He rolls his eyes.

"Maybe if you get a fake beard, you'll look older than 12." Party tries to school his face, all wide eyes and faked innocence.

"Maybe I could do some age make-up on you." And then he cracks and his smile breaks through again.

"I do not look twelve, you mutt!" Cooper says, the lack of heat behind his words betraying how he was amused by Party's words. After a moment, he can't help but grin. Strange how this is the second werewolf he seems to be developing a friendship with. Still, it might come in handy down the road to have some wolves in his corner.

So he decides to do Party a good turn. "Look, you ever get in trouble in Islington territory, you tell them you know Cooper. Might not look like it, but I got some clout t'my name." Marquess of Hackney came with some privileges after all.

Party really hadn't expected that, but he appreciates it all the same and his face softens a little. He's hardly had a warm welcome from the vampires here, but he's not one to judge people for what they are. It can't hurt to have a name to swing around the next time he's in trouble, anyway. Cooper might not know what he's getting himself into with that offer.

"So I shouldn't just bark at 'em?" If there's any question of Party's nature, his toothy grin highlights his canines in a way that's far too animalistic to be anything else.

Indeed, Cooper is probably going to regret this sooner rather than later. Party looks like the type to get into mischief without even trying. Still, he's already made the offer and can't very well rescind it now. He'll just have to hope Party knows better than to mouth off to any Islington vamps, not when they're so keen on spreading chaos throughout the city.

He sighs and shakes his head when the young wolf turns flippant. Party is probably doomed at this rate. "Let's hope your bite is worse'n your bark, Fluffy, or I might see a new pelt in Harris' office."

"Least do me a favor and steal it so you can use it for something cool." When he smiles, he's careful to show all of his tiny, sharp teeth. Even in this shape, he can bite like a motherfucker. No one ever said he was civilized or house-broken.

Cooper just rolls his eyes at Party's words. He should have known better than to try and knock some sense into a fearless wolf puppy. He remembers being young and thinking that he was untouchable. That was a very long time ago. "You're incorrigible. Be seein' you around, pup."

You Only Hear The Music When Your Heart Begins To Break - OPEN

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