09-16-2012, 04:22 PM
Not at all 
And was that a Finding Nemo reference there?
Sebastian giggled inanely, happy that he had hardly spilled any of his delicious alcohol. Being the short man he was, his feet barely touched the ground as his naked torso lay across the stranger's lap, his head just a centimetre short of whacking painfully against the armrest of the chair he had found. The Italian's orange eyes focused on the face above him with some effort, blinking as he did so. He hoped he hadn't ruined his tight black jeans.
First things first. Eyes. Those grabbed his attention, their bright, sharp green immediately enthralling him in their warm gaze. Beautiful. Then the little beard, possibly one of the cutest and most attractive things he had ever seen. His fur was the colour of yellowed sand, his little goatee and the fur on his head both highlighted blonde. White encompassed the underside of his muzzle and torso much like Sebastian's own coat of fur. Some things hung around his neck. Sebastian couldn't say what they were.
And he felt fur on his back, not cloth. Was this stranger naked? If only. Sebastian's arm flopped over his chest to check, letting his forearm briefly lean against the golden man's lap. No, there was cloth there. A pity. Sebastian named him Sandy.
Oh. And he had made the man spill some of his drink onto his chest. There was that. "You're cute," he noted vaguely. Oh yes, and the drink.
"Oops," he chuckled, lifting his arm to brush away some of the drops clinging to the sodden fur. "Mi dispiace, handsome." Sebastian flashed the handsome stranger a wide, bright and somewhat apologetic smile. "I'll buy you a drink to make up for it, hmm?" Sebastian offered the unusually-accented male one of his most charming smiles, one that quickly vanished when he was yanked up again.
"Ow," he whined. It was Rocco again. What did he want? The fuzzy white man seemed to like grabbing his arm for some reason.
"Don't you want to come home with me, little man?" The white wolf's grip was tight on his arm, but his voice was low and smooth. Sebastian pouted and dug his sharp claws into Rocco's forearm, rather more sharply than strictly necessary. Rocco let go immediately.
"No," he said obstinately, falling back into the yellowish stranger's lap for the second time in as many minutes. At least this time, he had fallen with some grace and didn't come down half as hard or suddenly. He put his tankard on the table on his way down. "I like Sandy more. He has an accent." Sebastian grinned and reached up to pet the stranger's goatee. It was endlessly fascinating for him.
And was that a Finding Nemo reference there?Sebastian giggled inanely, happy that he had hardly spilled any of his delicious alcohol. Being the short man he was, his feet barely touched the ground as his naked torso lay across the stranger's lap, his head just a centimetre short of whacking painfully against the armrest of the chair he had found. The Italian's orange eyes focused on the face above him with some effort, blinking as he did so. He hoped he hadn't ruined his tight black jeans.
First things first. Eyes. Those grabbed his attention, their bright, sharp green immediately enthralling him in their warm gaze. Beautiful. Then the little beard, possibly one of the cutest and most attractive things he had ever seen. His fur was the colour of yellowed sand, his little goatee and the fur on his head both highlighted blonde. White encompassed the underside of his muzzle and torso much like Sebastian's own coat of fur. Some things hung around his neck. Sebastian couldn't say what they were.
And he felt fur on his back, not cloth. Was this stranger naked? If only. Sebastian's arm flopped over his chest to check, letting his forearm briefly lean against the golden man's lap. No, there was cloth there. A pity. Sebastian named him Sandy.
Oh. And he had made the man spill some of his drink onto his chest. There was that. "You're cute," he noted vaguely. Oh yes, and the drink.
"Oops," he chuckled, lifting his arm to brush away some of the drops clinging to the sodden fur. "Mi dispiace, handsome." Sebastian flashed the handsome stranger a wide, bright and somewhat apologetic smile. "I'll buy you a drink to make up for it, hmm?" Sebastian offered the unusually-accented male one of his most charming smiles, one that quickly vanished when he was yanked up again.
"Ow," he whined. It was Rocco again. What did he want? The fuzzy white man seemed to like grabbing his arm for some reason.
"Don't you want to come home with me, little man?" The white wolf's grip was tight on his arm, but his voice was low and smooth. Sebastian pouted and dug his sharp claws into Rocco's forearm, rather more sharply than strictly necessary. Rocco let go immediately.
"No," he said obstinately, falling back into the yellowish stranger's lap for the second time in as many minutes. At least this time, he had fallen with some grace and didn't come down half as hard or suddenly. He put his tankard on the table on his way down. "I like Sandy more. He has an accent." Sebastian grinned and reached up to pet the stranger's goatee. It was endlessly fascinating for him.