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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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God, why couldn't he have been born a porcupine shifter?
He doesn't stop walking at the brisk pace he'd started out with, but considering his legs are shorter than Party's, it's likely not sending as strong of a message as he'd prefer. He'll have to rely on cutting sharp looks at him instead. "Yeah, a real hot date. Except I'm goin' out with your sister."
The main thing running through his head at the moment is please have a fucking sister. Otherwise, that'll have been a flop.
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He leans in closer to stage whisper. "The surprise is a dick."
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Ghoul comes to a dead stop all of a sudden, staring intensely down at the ground like it maybe holds all the answers to the universe.
It's okay. Slight miscalculation there, but it's all right. He can roll with that. He lifts his head again and gives a composed shrug. "That's fine too." And there he goes, right back to strutting his way along the sidewalk. Flawless save.
Sort of.
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"Where you off to in such a hurry, Cinderella? Ain't even gonna leave me a slipper?" Logically, they're going to see more of each other, anyway, if Ghoul is going to be hanging around his pack, but Party can't help a bit of harmless antagonizing.
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Ghoul barely makes it any further down the road before he's stopping again. He holds a hand out to stop Party as well, turning towards him and looking him over carefully. "You want me to give you somethin'? Okay. Close your eyes."
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"Hell no. You're gonna give me that fuckin' dog."
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Yes the fuck he was.
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"'Cause I can be real sweet if I get a kiss outta the deal." The sounds he makes are possibly the most annoying sounds one can make with their lips.
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Well, first he holds the dog in front of his own face, giving it a stern pep talk. "You better go ballistic as soon as you hit the ground, you hear me? No fuckin' mercy. We ain't taking prisoners."
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It actually sounds sort of terrifying. He jerks upright again, dog still in hand, just in time to find another pastel-colored whirlwind running at him at full speed- or as full speed as she can get on expensive heels. The lady's very pretty, but also very rich looking, and is focusing all of her near-hysterical attention on her dog rather than the two men babysitting it. Ghoul's making a game out of counting how many dumb petnames he's heard come out of her mouth when she plucks the dog from his hands. The stupid thing whines like it doesn't want to go, but it's too late. The woman's cuddling it hardcore and clacking her way around the corner.
Well. That takes care of the dog problem, but still. Jesus.
Ghoul's stunned, staring blankly in the direction they'd gone, then down at his empty hands which he slowly lowers again. When he glances back over at Party, his eyes are a little wide. "This place is a fucking mess."
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That lady's about what he'd expected out of the owner of that yappy little thing and while he can empathize with it wanting to stay with Ghoul, he can't say he's sorry to see the stupid thing go. The dog and the lady both seem pretty awful to him. Good riddance. This is why he avoids the more upscale areas most of the time.
"Seen worse. Maybe you just gotta adjust your expectations, buddy."
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Ghoul smears the palms of his hands down the front of his coat, like that'll get the dog off them, and makes his way further down the alley. "Are you gonna piss off now that the entertainment's gone, or do I gotta find your owner too?"
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