Closer

Jonathon Allan · 02-02-2011, 07:20 PM

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Tongue it replies. finally.

Jonathon didn't usually drink alcohol, or smoke, for that matter, but when he found some good booze, he would definetly drink up. The boy could become a booze hound if he found the booze to be acceptable. Of course, the alcohol he carried at this point was perfect. A fine English Scotch that was carried by ship to America, where it had traveled to Canada in the capable hands of an Irish brewer. Despite the hodgepodge of nationalities, Jonathon was pleased with his purchase. It smelled wonderful, and was in the typical holding of a Luperci-made alcohol, very traditional.

Still, he found himself missing the glass decanters that the Scotch, brandy, and whiskey had always come in when he still lived in England. Of course; it wasn't really his fault he had to miss them. Howard got him booted out of the country, and then Howard managed to somehow drink every bottle of liquor that they had brought with them to Canada. And the interesting part of it was that Howard didn't get drunk. Jonathon did.

Who would have thought a creature that could not exist on it's own, a veritable parasite, could have such an amazing head for alcohol? It was astounding, actually, to Jonathon. Howard was an ass and a gay, but an ass and a gay that could outdrink... An ass and a gay that could outdrink an Irishman!

Jonathon felt something stir in his mind as he trudged to find a good place to drink, Scotch in hand. Careful, princess, Howard chuckled. It's not nice to call someone an ass. Jonathon smirked at to himself, and then muttered, "And how, old boy, do you expect to do anything about it?" He looked around with a smug expression until Howard purred. Threateningly. Princess, I don't need the ballsack. You're the one that does. Jonathon's face blanched at the prospect of losing his pride and joy. What a dark day that would be. So be nice, princess, Howard growled.

Jonathon nodded to himself and slowed down as he saw posts with wolf skulls on them. Not a pleasent thing to see for the wolf. So he skirted around the territory that smelled disinctly of coyote, and soon found himself by a small brook, and on the other side, a lovely coyote lass. Well. Coyotes suddenly looked much, much better to Jonathon, especially if they were that pretty. She also had a bottle of something in her hand. A double plus, in Jonathon's books.

He grinned at her, and then opened his muzzle. "So, might I ask who you are, lovely?" he asked. He heard Howard scoff in his mind, and chuckled silently to himself. Howard always sulked and pouted when he flirted.

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