air[p]lanes like shooting stars.

Rook · 07-03-2011, 06:50 PM

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Rook looked down at the rest of the box, eyeing the packaged blankets before deciding to take three of them. Leaving the other half for Barrett ought to be good enough… fair… he decided. The blankets,
upon closer inspection, were obviously still in good condition. He’d hold onto two of them and use the third to trade for something – a desperately needed medicinal herb, more clothing or otherwise. He made quick work of refolding the blanket he had opened and piled it on top of the two others he was going to take with him, which he then set aside.

As Barrett began to open a few other containers, the coyote did the same. He too found a box full of gas mask filters but had absolutely no idea what they did. He sniffed, shook, and even bit one of them before he tossed it back with the rest. If anything, he definitely considered them as strange… whatever they were. His brow furrowed and he paced a bit before settling down beside another cardboard box. Cautiously, he placed his nose where the outer flaps where supposed to be taped down instead of splayed out. Nothing unusual…

The third box, unfortunately, was another disappointment. Masks. He held it up to this face, to stare at it eye-to-eye but the yearling had caught his attention. Barrett offered him a tour of the plane with a yawn and Rook, not wanting to overstay his welcome near the youth’s sleeping quarters, sprung up. “Sure,” he smiled, dropping the mask in a cavalier-like manner. He looked over to his pile of itchy woolen fabric before glancing to Barrett and striding on over, “And, nah, finding some decent bedding is more than enough for me. You can, erm, have the rest if ya want, three’s sufficient for now with the warm weather an’ such.”

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