you can bang your drums (we will play along)
#3
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I couldn't resist. X3




Dante leered down at the defenseless object, staring it down as if it was some sort of unfortunate prey. He stomped on the side of the box, enjoying the way the hollow clang of the metal panel echoed off the sides of nearby buildings. It really was all just a simple waste of time, but the hybrid boy didn’t really care either way. It wasn’t as if he had anything better to be doing with his life. As stupid as it was for him to stand around beating the crap out of an inanimate object, he was having fun. And that’s all that really mattered to him. He raised his bat to the air to strike at the metal box once more, but a scent drifted to him on a lazy breeze and he halted mid-swing. Slowly Dante turned around, eyes scanning the area for the source of the scent. Before long he spotted a young coyote standing beside a brick building, staring right at him.



This territory was apparently a pretty popular one. He hadn’t been lingering around this city for more than a week, and already this was the third soul he’d run into. Though, admittedly, the hybrid boy had met one of those feisty girls by barging into her pack’s territory, but that was beside the point, really. He was glad to find that this one, at least, knew better than to prance around on all fours like an idiot. This kid couldn’t seem to do anything more than stare, though. So for the moment, Dante stared back. His amethyst gaze studied the coyote boy for a moment. He was certainly young, nearly what he could call tall, and rather wiry. Dante lifted an eyebrow in slight curiosity at the sight of the coy’s green bandana, but dismissed it rather quickly. He had seen much stranger and much more interesting things during his months’ travel trough the northern territories.



It didn’t take long for the stilted, awkward silence to wear thin on Andante’s nerves. He wished the kid would get lost already, instead of gawking at him like some kind of idiot. Dante’s amethyst gaze narrowed into a glare. He lifted his baseball bat so that it could lean against his shoulder, hand still firmly gripping the handle. He took a few steps toward the ‘yote boy, keeping his attention sharp for any signs of movement the kid might display. “The hell ya want?” he called out gruffly, glare still fixed on the younger canine’s pale olive gaze. Maybe he could scare the little whelp into leaving him alone. All the hybrid boy really wanted was a little alone time to vent his ever-present frustrations.
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