Bartholomew had been being naughty again! Well, not as naughty as say, Hurricane would be, but he definitely was going to get into some shit while he had control of the body. There was no reason for him not to have some fun while he had the time. His family stayed behind on this journey, for Bartholomew had argued his way out of them coming with him, because he didn't want the baggage, nor did he want the children to see what he was going to do while he was out, because he obviously was not the best influence between the three personalities, but he was not the worst of them all. Hurricane was, and everyone knew Hurricane. Everyone knew Bartholomew too, but Bartholomew wasn't around normally, he always seemed to want to be away from the family. Bartholomew did love Krystalle, there was no doubt about that, but the children had made a wedge form between them because he would want to do things with Krystalle that was not appropriate for the children, so that made him have to leave. Soon, when the children were old enough, Krystalle would be able to leave with him, and they would be able to party like old times.
He took his happy ass to Halifax though, his white jacket and otter fur skirt hugging his body even though his "South Californian" fur had long grown into "the harsh winter of Northern Nova Scotia" fur. He was not hot though, for there was still some snow on the ground in the city. He walked through and eventually got bored and started to look for things that were interesting to him. Mostly books, and backpacks, alcohol, and things of that nature. The man poured some of the alcohol he would find on his tattoos, which would make them burn in an 'oh so satisfying" way. Bartholomew then would continue on his journey to find something fun to do, and soon he had come upon a trail, a scent that was just begging to be followed. The strong scent turned from a wolf into wine though, and the Cubbins immediately was much more interested and he continued to follow it.
He followed the scent all the way to a trap door basement. He was apprehensive at the top of the stairs for a moment, if only because there was a nagging at the back of his head about walking into the darkness. It was Mars, and Bartholomew ignored the whispering of the male in his ear and he descended down into the basement. He found a sleeping beast in a rather comfortable looking bean bag chair. There was an open wine bottle next to the rust and cream male and a few glasses. Ya' 'xpectin someone 'er somethin'? asked the Californian, loud enough to try and wake the sleeping beast.
.freebjuly08 b {font-weight:bold; color:#032e5a; letter-spacing:1px; text-shadow: 0.1em 0.1em 0.2em #020202;}
.freebjuly08 p {text-indent:0px; padding:5px 15px; margin:0px;}
.freebjuly08 {margin:0 auto; width:500px; background-color:#020202; background-image:url(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v121/ ... bjuly8.png); background-position:top center; background-repeat:no-repeat; border:1px solid #19140f; padding: 165px 0px 7px 0px; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size:12px; color:#979799; text-shadow: 0.1em 0.1em 0.2em #020202;letter-spacing:.6px; word-spacing:.9x; line-height:13px; text-align:justify;}
</style>
[/html]