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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! ]
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Towards tiny teeth yanking at the laces of his sneakers, to be specific. "Hey, fuck off!" He has to clap his hands a couple times to get it to let go, but once it does, he finally looks back up at Roddy in a way that says can you believe this shit?
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And he was one sometimes, of course, but he couldn't really say that. Then, seeing what the dog was doing, he laughed.
"Shoelaces. The natural prey of tiny dogs."
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Jesus take the wheel.
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The little dog wiggled frantically, trying to get free, his eyes fixed on Ghoul as he desperately longed to be near Ghoul's face.
"You'll have to move quickly, though, I don't know how long I can hold him."
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"I dunno what's wrong with it. It should be tryin' to make out with you, not me. Your face is right fucking there."
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It almost would be easier to hold onto a larger dog, assuming the larger dog was a bit calmer. Roddy tried petting it a little, seeing if that might make the little dog accept him a bit more.
"Maybe he likes you better. Maybe you have the better face."
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But before bothering to reach out and relieve Roddy from dog duty, Ghoul gives him a long, critical look. "You sayin' he wants to lick me so bad 'cause my face looks like an ass?"
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He looked at the other guy a moment as he handed the dog back. "Of course, I can't say whether the dog thinks your face looks like an ass or not."
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He smirks once he's got his tiny passenger situated, addressing Roddy's slick save with, "Gee, thanks. Feel real confident now." Ghoul's only picking at him. But, he can't stand around and play all day. He's got some wiggly, fluffy business to attend to. "So if you're gonna be around for a while, keep an eye out for anybody who looks like the're falling apart without their ugly furbaby, okay?"
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In fact...Roddy turned his sensitive rodent hearing to the crowd, listening for anything that might point this guy in the right direction. It was then he heard a high pitched woman's voice panicking over something in the distance, too far for human hearing, but within range of his own.
"You know, I'm not sure if it's related, but I hear some woman getting upset about something that way," he said, pointing in the direction of the voice.
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"Damn, way to use your listenin' ears." He grins. "I'm gonna check it out. If it's a dud and you find the real owner once I'm gone, I'll be, y'know, in the area. Ain't going far." With that, he hurries towards where he suspects the distraught woman is, hoping to catch her before she slips away.
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And with that, he let the guy go, hoping he'd find the lady who was missing her dog.