Whiskey and cigarettes

p. Jhiral!

POSTED: Tue Feb 13, 2018 12:00 am


Vinny gave a slow exhale, a puff of smoke escaping through parted lips. A cigarette lofted about lazily between two fingers, a thin wisp of smoke trailing upwards from the pale ember that flickered on the butt of the rolled paper. The Blackrust savored the next inhale, feeling his shoulders relaxing at the tobacco’s comforting effect. It had been way too long since he had enjoyed a good smoke, and the dog hybrid missed the feeling of the nicotine wrap on his fingertips. So when he saw a loner trade some joints away at the bar in exchange for a drink, the Blackrust couldn’t resist keeping his sticky fingers to himself.

The tri colored male slouched against the wall as he savored his cigarette, eyes scanning lazily over the scant number of patrons that had made a temporary roost in Biff’s bar for the afternoon. Bright sunlight outside the establishment fooled one into expecting warm sun rays, only to be met with the frigid bite of mid winter temperatures. The thick sheets of snow encasing the ground were enough to keep the majority of pack members at bay, though nightfall would certainly draw a few out of their respective hovels. But during the daytime, the establishment mainly served as a place where those with no other place to call home could convene.

But that didn’t mean that there couldn’t be an occasional exception to the rule. Vinny’s lip curled in contempt as the familiar scents of the northern coyote pack flooded his nostrils, fighting for their place amongst the scent of tobacco product. And below that, while faint, there was the sickly sweet scent of rot. A battered looking fellow seated on a stool nearby seemed to be the culprit of the offending scent. The Blackrust had come to recognize the scent of this distant pack during the events that sent it’s members flooding the bar’s gates for a barman’s signature, of all things. But this fellow seemed aloof to such charades, for he had mainly kept to himself for the past hour or so that Vinny had been casually observing him.

What intrigued Vinny, however, were the bandages that covered almost every visible surface of the older man. Aside from some patches of sandy colored fur and two inquisitive yellow eyes, the stranger was completely swathed in white linens. As for what, Vinny could only guess that it had something to do with the underlying scent of rot that clung to his fur. Interest piqued, the stout Blackrust ambled over to claim an empty stool besides the Infernian, allowing his cigarette to dangle languidly from his lip.

”Ya know, I heard somewhere that those with scars have the most interesting stories to tell,” Vinny addressed the man, his muzzle twisting upwards in a twisted sneer as he continued ”If that’s the case, then I’m sure you could keep me entertained with a few.” Vinny had never been the most tactful of the Blackrust bunch, and this opening provided no exception from his typical blunt manner.

wc 506
Threads with Vinny will need marked MATURE due to foul language.
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