12-15-2009, 07:01 PM
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300+
Final point count- 24
Kay I'm going to have this archived now.
Strelein said nothing as he fell on the sofa, the old springs protesting the motion with a loud noise. Resting his head on the armrest that had not been mutilated by his own nails. It was old and it smelled musky, as though it could do with a good airing out. It also seemed quite dusty, probably from the neglect. The redhead watched the black and white brute lean into the heat of the fire, away from him. Leroy was certainly taking it better than the younger one would have thought. He had always assumed the guy was straight as a line, though it seemed he secretly curved like a river. Then again, he could still be under the effect of the alcohol, since the redhead did not know how long it took for the stuff to leave one's system. That was a mystery to him and he couldn't believe that Leroy was so damn serious now. Smirking a bit, the redhead restrained himself from going up and being overly affectionate. After all, it was far from appropriate to the situation. Besides, that sort of thing was for a special someone. Not Leroy.
"Fine, whatever you say. Though I bet you it'll get out. Someone'll find out for sure," he warned, rather nonchalant about it. It did not bother him that anyone would know. To Strel, that was far from a big deal. But the redhead had to wonder what that would do to the dog's image. Not everyone was quite as accepting and some were just ready to roll some heads. Suppressing a yawn, the wolf stared at the crackling fire, watching the logs burn. "I'll leave when it stops raining, so I can get out of your hair." And give him a chance to find material for new clothing since what he had entered in were no longer suitable for little more than home-made dust rags.
Final point count- 24
Kay I'm going to have this archived now.
Strelein said nothing as he fell on the sofa, the old springs protesting the motion with a loud noise. Resting his head on the armrest that had not been mutilated by his own nails. It was old and it smelled musky, as though it could do with a good airing out. It also seemed quite dusty, probably from the neglect. The redhead watched the black and white brute lean into the heat of the fire, away from him. Leroy was certainly taking it better than the younger one would have thought. He had always assumed the guy was straight as a line, though it seemed he secretly curved like a river. Then again, he could still be under the effect of the alcohol, since the redhead did not know how long it took for the stuff to leave one's system. That was a mystery to him and he couldn't believe that Leroy was so damn serious now. Smirking a bit, the redhead restrained himself from going up and being overly affectionate. After all, it was far from appropriate to the situation. Besides, that sort of thing was for a special someone. Not Leroy.
"Fine, whatever you say. Though I bet you it'll get out. Someone'll find out for sure," he warned, rather nonchalant about it. It did not bother him that anyone would know. To Strel, that was far from a big deal. But the redhead had to wonder what that would do to the dog's image. Not everyone was quite as accepting and some were just ready to roll some heads. Suppressing a yawn, the wolf stared at the crackling fire, watching the logs burn. "I'll leave when it stops raining, so I can get out of your hair." And give him a chance to find material for new clothing since what he had entered in were no longer suitable for little more than home-made dust rags.