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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! ]
no subject
Though if he'd been being completely honest, it was the fact that Ghoul was so young. Yeah sure, he was probably in his 20s or something, but kid came across as the pup he kept calling him in his head. Too immature for his own good.
"Sides, you ain't seem that keen on getting out of here yet. Even with me givin' you directions. Figure you must want somethin'. Or you just not sure if you got permission to leave?"
no subject
As much as he hates to admit it, Daryl's decently close to the root of the problem with his last guess. Sort of. Ghoul can't stand the thought of turning his back to him- everything in him knows Daryl's not a prey animal, which makes him dangerous. The thought of making himself vulnerable, even just enough to turn and leave, makes him feel all jittery.
At least he doesn't have to make it sound that pathetic when he actually answers. "Been kinda hoping you'd fuck off first. I don't wanna deal with you breathin' down my neck, so..." He looks him over, filthy uniform and all. He's on the clock, right? "You look like you got a job, go do it."
no subject
He titled his head before stepping back just a little, "On break. But if you're that ansy to get your ass outta here, go on."
A moment later a finger came up, "Actually, hold on a second."
no subject
Well. Maybe not.
He pauses, shifting around to face Daryl fully once again. "What?" He sounds awfully irked, but hey, he stopped.
no subject
The first of the cats clicked it jaw at him and then trotted over to rub up against Ghoul's leg. The other two remained with Daryl. He stayed crouched down near them and nodded at the one being friendly with Ghoul, "Rumtumtugger there'll lead you to the perfume shop. If the owner of the dog ain't around looking, the people inside might know who it belongs to."
omw i gasped and said KITTIES irl, i can't handle it
Ghoul knows better than to let it go- he tightens his hold. Last thing he needs is the damn thing wildly chasing a cat around town.
He can't really believe he's getting his own personal feline escort, though. "Wait. For real?" Nope. Can't believe it. Even if it's right there. Bumping his leg. "No, really- for real?" And its name is fucking Rumtumtugger, this can not be real life.
no subject
She meowed loudly and jumped up so her head could hit Ghoul's knee before she trotted off a few feet. When he didn't immediately follow, she darted back and repeated the motion.
"Should probably hurry up, Felix is impatient," he snorted. No the cat's name wasn't actually Rumtumtugger. Or Felix. He just used whatever famous cat name came to mind. Not like Ghoul would understand her real name. He didn't speak cat. "And Toto there looks like he wants to antagonize her."
no subject
Yeah. Oh. He can't quite find the right words for this situation, so that'll have to do.
It's just silly. He turns in to a wolf every month. He's seen magic. A cat guide shouldn't be that much of a stretch, but it is. He remembers his manners after he gets a second headbutt to the knee and he manages a marginally puzzled sounding, "Thanks... cat..." as he begins to follow her this time.
Once she sees he's taking the bait she decides to speed way the hell up, causing Ghoul to dart off after her with an alarmed, "Aw, shit!"
Which is, no doubt, the best impression to leave Daryl and the rest of the cats with.