black market bodega.
#1
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uuuuuuuuhr, okay, before my timelines get FUBAR, this is backdated to before my (also to be backdated) thread with Mel, both of which are being done that way so they occur before Alacrity's joining thread. set @ his garage in halifax, p for rurik



    Savina's company had proven therapeutic on several levels, and he found his mind was no longer spinning in circles with gross fantasies of ambush or robbery. There was no need to worry--by now he was convinced that the gang didn't have backup. He'd gone back to the alley and found the bodies much as he'd left them, but he hadn't stayed particularly long: the smell was nauseating. The hybrid claimed the heads of the two wolves he'd fell, however, figuring they were suitable trophies. The trio Jantus had annihilated were left untouched. Maybe it didn't seem right to take credit for someone else's work; maybe he only had two hands and two heads just seemed to fit.
    They sat on the driveway in front of his garage, staring with lifeless eyes and hollow grins down to the street. It was drizzling, but one of the large bay doors was open anyway. Anselm was inside riffling through his things, tossing several of his piny perfumed packages into a satchel, along with two pipes: the larger was constructed of wood, while the glass one was almost awkwardly small. They were but several of the prizes he'd turned up in an abandoned underground shop--what had driven him to explore the pocket of a building was unknown, but he'd certainly been pleased with the results. It was both delightful and strange that even the least exciting of human structures could conceal great treasures.
    Once things seemed situated, he turned and regarded the grey skies with a sigh. Unless he intended to carry the two noggins in his mouth (physics and personal dignity said no), he would have to trek back to Inferni on two legs instead of four. That circumstance alone dictated a longer travel time, and it didn't take any convincing for him to plop down on the couch for a final smoke. It would at least make the first half of the journey more interesting. And so, he packed himself a sizeable bowl and began to puff merrily away, watching with drowsy interest as the white smoke billowed out the garage door and mingled with the fine mist outside.
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