[ota]

[ghoulaid]

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! ]

Comments

[injectablefame]

Party, looking like his best impression of a raggedy black and red scarecrow, is hardly the sort to be asked if he has a cute little dog in a sweater, but he does happen to be walking by as a cute and well-dressed young woman tells Ghoul that it isn't hers.

He almost keeps walking, but then he notices the sweater. That poor dog.

"Where did you find that thing?" Which is nicer than his first several thoughts about the situation.

1

[constantprisoner]

"Dear lord -- I mean, no, it's not my dog."

He couldn't recall the last time he'd seen a sweater that horrid, outside of a plaid nightmare his friends had tried to force him into one drunken evening.

"I'm assuming it's not yours, either? Though I can understand why you're trying to get rid of it."

1

[catphishing]

If Oliver did own a dog... he would probably dress it up, and he would definitely have a small one. It would be better trained than to yap like that though, and he wouldn't be standing calmly waiting for the crosswalk to change so he could get across the road while it was missing.

So it's okay for him to sound offended.

"Does it look like my dog?"

It's yapping at him as much as anyone else.

2

[emotioneater]

Cooper is in danger of being squashed into a nice teenage vampire shaped pancake with all the bodies pressed inside the coffee shop. He's up against a wall, phone pressed to his ear as he's deep in a conversation with one of the vampires of the nest. "Diego, you need to get up off your arse and help. Or don't. But remember who it is you might be turning down here. I'm not gonna forget this if I become the representative."

He was so busy with his conversation he didn't even notice the drink switch until he took a sip that was far too sweet. He looks around and spots Ghoul making his way towards the door. "Oi! Hold up there!" He struggles to make his way through the crowd before Ghoul can take off with his tea.

so you need more people to harass with a dog right

[falsify]

If there's a person who could look less like they'd be the owner of that dog around here, Eames can't see them. And he likes to think that if he was going to put his dog in a jumper, it'd be nicer than that. Or at least hideous in the right way. That poor dog is suffering.

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?"

[roddy_reinigen]

Roddy jumped a little when he heard the yipping right behind him, followed by a guy asking if it was his. Roddy turned to look at him and the dog...was that dog wearing a lavender shirt? He shook his head.

"Uh...no, sorry. Not my dog. I'm really more of a rodent guy." He looked at the dog for a few seconds more. "At least if someone starts asking around for it, it shouldn't be too long before someone notices it and points you in the right direction. Can't be too many dogs in purple shirts."

1 because daryl is soooo into pastels

[dirtyredneck]

Daryl had been watching the guy walk down the street, stopping people every so often to point to the dog and ask a question. He was leaning against a wall next to one of the sandwich shops munching on his lunch, dressed in his mechanic coveralls which were smeared with oil stains. His lanky hair falling in his face. He looked nothing like the dog in any way shape or form, pastels the furthest thing from him and ratty dogs as equally low on his list.

Mostly he was watching the guy because of the scent. Werewolves weren't common to Richmond just for casual strolls. Last one that had come around was the painter. He didn't exactly mind them, but he did get annoyed at how both of them seemed to be into ignoring his scent markers. It weren't polite.

When the kid got to him and asked about the dog, Daryl started at him, eyes rolling down and back up. From his face to the dog and back to his face.

"No."

1

[knowntohisfriends]

"... You alright there, mate?"

The Dodger seems to sound amused by what he's seeing. It is kind of hilarious from his eyesight but at the sametime, it ain't right for someone to be gettin' menaced by an animal. An' it also ain't right for a poor dog to be stuck in that ugly a jumper. He kneels down, holding his hand out in a beckoning gesture to the mutt. Maybe if they got rid of the monstrosity, it wouldn't be too bad.