“… He means ‘es watchin’ his own home videos.” Dun mutters to Minerva, with a not-so subtle hand-to-the-side of the lip.
Pop. The cherry-bubblegum she’s chewing on’s pretty lame, but, at least she isn’t buying anything from this place.
“Cats are old news. It’s geese that’re funny,” She says in that deadpan, dead-eyed way only early-twenty college kids can manage.
“ nah, man. i don’t fuck with geese. ”
for all his furs and glittering jewelry, grendel’s never been above running like a bitch from the wrath of a territorial bird. he’s a dumbass, not an idiot – and he values the intact-ed-ness of his toes, you know? he’d like to keep those. his balance is bad enough as it is.
ugly, honkin’ cigar’s snuffed out on the arm of the chair. why should he give a shit? it’s not his furniture.
“ i can hear you, dun.
you’d better not be
direspecting my cat. ”