The golden Australian had found himself wandering the city that night, he had left Pan and Gelar sleeping in the secure little building he had found to shelter in. He needed some time away from his permanent companions and the city had called to him, one spot not too far away from his hovel emitting a lot of noise. He had ambled towards it about an hour ago and had found a gathering place of some sort, there was music, alcohol and other Two-leggers, and Baird had decided that he would welcome the company of other canines. He hadn't expected to be allowed in actually, the only clothing he owned a loincloth that covered his gentlemans region and backside, but showed the rest of his golden sand and white furred body. He was surprised when he was waved in without the wolf on the door, a hulking mass of a male, even batting an eyelid. He knew he was the odd one out though, the sore thumb that stood out amongst all of the club going canines, the majority of them decked in vibrant or voluminous fabrics, even if the majority of the males were topless they wore trousers or shorts to cover their legs. Baird had thought about procuring some shorts or trousers from somewhere, but then his tribe scars would be covered and they were as much of his identity as his facial features. Initially he was shy and embarrassed about his nakedness, but after his first pitcher of ale he felt a lot better about it.
He had sunk into a soft chair, the seat a little worn and the arms almost ripped to shreds by claws of patrons past, but it held him like a hug from a mother and he was loathe to leave it. He was considering whether he should rise to go get a drink, or ask one of his new friends to go fetch one for him, the two silver furred wolves laughing at the joke he had just finished telling, a joke he had already forgotten, something about a sea anemone? He couldn't recall. The wolves were fascinated with his accent, none of them having ever heard an Australian voice before and as they quelled their laughter they started asking him to say things and comparing it with they way they pronounced it, they were giggling over the word 'toilet' and asking him about 'horse' with which he was about to reply Brumby, when a wolf literally fell into his lap. He cried out in surprise as the small wolf crashed onto his bare legs, mead splashing his chest and face, little alcoholic droplets forming on the blue glass of the goggles rested on his forehead. "Whoah! Steady there mate. You alright?" He asked the man, the warm weight of the red and white wolf actually quite comfortable. Bairds startling green eyes searched the face of the other for the signs of injury or pain, but found only drunken revelry at that moment. He allowed a grin to slip onto his face, more than willing to join in the fun.
Photo courtesy of pierre pouliquin
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