[html] Rummaging through the city was quite an experience. The dust was so thick on some shelves in some buildings that Laurel almost felt bad disturbing it to dust off books and other objects. More so, his nose certainly didn't appreciate it and after a sneezing fit or two, he had gotten past the irritation and started to hold his breath when it comes to dusting. Between himself and Nikita, they were deep in a run down house that hadn't been broken into… at least until they had come along. Between the two of them, getting the door open had revealled a place that was far from kept well on the inside.
Stacks of magazines, books, cassette tapes, and records were stacked on the floors and equally scattered around haphazardly. The shelves were no better and as he sifted through the rooms quietly, letting his eyes trace over everything from useless trinkets to faded photos on the wall. “A place like this would be a packrat's dream,” he murmured, plucking his hat from his head as it caught on another doorframe. “Find anything interesting, Nikki?” he called out for his partner in crime, then eyeing a clock on the wall which had stopped on numbers he didn't have any comprehension of. 6:14, it bolded told him from its place on the kitchen wall. [/html]
[html] Long paragraphs are long.
She, for about the eight millionth time in an hour or so, angrily rubbed the corners of her eyes with equally-dirty knuckles. Though it was probably only making her eyes sting more, it was a reflex that was hard to break. Between that and the incessant sneezing that she had been cycling through as well, she felt a bit like hell. Sniffing and then promptly sneezing afterward, her bleary eyes scanned the corner of the room that she was in. It might have been a dining room at one time — there was broken china and silverware scattered across the floor. The cabinets were wrenched open and some had fallen to the ground. She heard Laurel call if she had found anything, and she replied, “Uhh, maybe. Hold on.” She approached the cabinets and drawers, opening all of them and peering inside. Most of the plates around had been broken from earthquakes and such that had terrorized the city since the humans left it, but there were some in the bottom and back of these cabinets that weren’t too bad. Just a few cracks. There was a drawer with some dusty — but usable — silverware as well. “I think I’ve got some usable plates and silverware, if we ever decide to have a half-formal meal.” She grinned, thinking the idea of a cooked meal excellent. It was better than roasting something on a spit every night. She pulled the usable things out and put them in a pile on the dining room table.
Since she couldn’t find anything else useful in there, she searched the adjacent room — the kitchen. The smell was pretty ripe; there was either some food rotting or something dead somewhere in the room. Or both. Wrinkling up her nose, she tried her best to breathe through her mouth as she scrounged around for something usable. She unceremoniously prized open ancient cupboards, finding nothing more than dust and things she’d rather not know the identity of. She searched through everything — her search yielding nothing — until she came to a small cabinet in the corner of the room. It was jammed, so she slipped her knife out and tried to pry the cabinet open. After a moment, it popped open. She sheathed the knife and sifted through the contents of the cabinet… a bunch of old, dusty bottles. She wiped the dust off and, within a half-second of seeing the fancy lettering on the label, widened her olive eyes and cracked out a devious cackle. “Jackpot!” she called in a sing-song voice before gathering an armful of bottles and carrying them to the table in the dining room. [/html]
Long posts are happy, mm.
[html] Running his thumb along the edge of the worn hat, he nodded to himself when Nikita started to pick through the cabinets. All good things and things that could be cleaned pretty easily. Find a little glue and the broken things could be patched up okay. Setting the tweed hat on the counter, he silently opened up an upper cabinet with a squeaky joint and pulled the plates stored in it down, not daring to blow the settled dust off of them just yet. That was better saved for doing outside, he had decided. The cobwebs were particularly thick but the occupant of said web looked to be about as long gone as the once inhabitant of the house.
It was when he closed the squeaky cabinet door that Nikita had cackled, exclaiming and revealling her find only moments later; he smiled every bit as broad as she did. Picking his hat back up and setting it back in its rightful place atop his head, Laurel followed after her into the dining room, ducking when the doorframe came back into play. From there, he nitpicked over the dusty bottles, seizing one that was nearly full and wiped the grime from it with his thumb. “Looks like our packrat had quite a nice stash of liquor when he kicked the bucket,” he mused, debating whether or not to get into it now or later. “Judging by some of the labels, this stuff would knock you on your ass pretty fast for as small as you are.” [/html]
[html] As she hurried about, ferrying many of the ancient bottles back to the dining room, Laurel leisurely slipped in and started to examine them. When he spoke for the first time, she had finished carrying in the last armful of hidden treasure. “That’s fine by me,” she grinned. The previous owner of this house’s loss was their gain — which practically meant all of this run-down place. It was sad in a way; not that Nikita really bothered to care, though. She chuckled and smiled impishly at Laurel under his dubious stare. “Oh, come now,” she said quietly, picking up the bottle he had been peering at and gave it a good look herself. A smile flickered at her lips. “Well, size isn’t everything.” She put the bottle down. Early on in her journeys, when she was a yearling, she drank water and alcohol in nearly equal doses, depending on the crowd she ran with. It had knocked her hard onto her ass, but she wasn’t as susceptible to its effects anymore.
She glanced around the open cabinets and cupboards, a frown springing to life on her face. “Too bad there aren’t any glasses around here that aren’t broken. We just might have to drink straight from the bottle.” Not that she terribly minded, but she was about to be living with a bit more company than just Laurel, after all. Maybe she wanted to put on a good impression. “Oh, well. I think that’s everything I can find from this house. Want to try another?” She stared at the pile of items they had collected before trying to go and find a cloth or something to wrap it all up in. [/html]
[html] Laurel chuckled about the fact that they didn't have any glasses; he simply didn't have much use for them. “I'd sooner drink from the bottle than try and find a glass unbroken or clean,” and yet it was neither here nor there at the same time. “I guess we could try and scout out the next house if you want, but we probably shouldn't take too much of anything since there's only so much we can carry.” He picked up another bottle and wiped off the grime, wondering idly about their mix of companions that were no doubt picking through the city as well. If they were going to look for something, it needed to be a bit more meaningful than a batch of good spirits.
Setting that bottle down, he turned his attention back to the house and ventured into the next room, speaking. “Wasn't there some shop or something down the block that we passed by?” Back in the living room, he really didn't see anything that would be used for carrying, but burning things on the other hand, there was plenty. Absently, he thought it was probably a good thing that the previous owner didn't smoke because if he had been when he died… maybe the city would be up in smoke instead of just weathered. “I know it looked like it had been ransacked pretty well, but maybe there's something there too.” he thought aloud, approaching a closet door and promptly opened it to investigate. [/html]
[html] She shrugged lamely at Laurel’s words. “I don’t mind too much, truly. Just thinking we might have to be a bit fancier, since we’re going to make a pack, uh… group. Or whatever the hell they call these things anymore.” She grinned impishly. “Nah, we’d better spend our time looking for more useful things. Like stuff for tents. We can use branches for the frames, but we’re short on the canvas kind of things.” Nikita really didn’t have much of a way for words; most of the time she rambled and hoped someone got the gist of her conversation. Luckily enough for her, Laurel was fairly good at deciphering through her somewhat scatter-brained conversation.
Her companion wandered into the living room to scout for stuff while she remained in the dining room, yet the conversation continued. She listened to him as she found a moth-eaten had-been tablecloth and happily wrapped the bottles, plates, and cutlery inside into a make-shift bundle. She had just tied the knot on the top when she replied to Laurel, “There’s no point in not checking.” She laughed and added, “It’d be some luck of ours if it was some camping shop, eh?” Finding some decent, ready-made tents would be much like a Godsend for them. At least until they had built some more permanent places to live in the little place they had picked out. [/html]
[html] “Aw, nah, we don't have to be fancy. Laurie might be a little frilly on the edges but he knows when to rough and tumble things,” and surely when it boiled down to it, Laurel didn't think that he had ever been fancy in his entire life. Fancy could have almost been a negative term to describe him. He pulled a worn pack from the closet after mindlessly chucking a coat or two out over his shoulder and examined it, mostly checking the seams to see if it would be any good at holding anything at all. “And if that place was a camping shop, I'd almost expect the goodies to be picked clean from it. Though if it were, I'd like to track down a good hunting knife again—the one I had before broke years ago.”
Convinced that the backpack would at least be useful for carrying something, he set it to the side and continued to dig through the contents of the closet. Just like the living room, it had its own stack of magazines and objects that meant little to him, so it too was soon abandoned and he continued speaking. “I mean, that thing you carry around it great for hacking at things, but I'm not so sure it would be right for skinning an animal, an' that's the fastest way to get some free whatevers; food, blanket, bedding,” and then he gestured loosely as though to continue it on, regardless of whether or not she could see it. From there, he rejoined her with the bundled up supplies and offered the bag wordlessly, giving the room another once-over with his eyes.
“See anything else?” [/html]
[html] She nodded (though there was no way her companion could tell) and grinned to herself. Laurie wasn’t the one that she wondered about, it was the kid — Jasper. The guy looked a little frail, but perhaps some rougher living out in the open air might be good for him. Nikita had never really gotten the chance to live in an indoors place for too long, so she couldn’t really get the attachment to it. Some people just liked a firm roof over their heads, she guessed. She also nodded invisibly when Laurel mentioned finding another hunting knife (definitely a needle in a haystack out in this city), though she didn’t really think of bothering to off her knife up. It was an old habit of hers, never to let it leave her side.
His argument was sound enough as it was — she had not obtained her knife to skin animals. Or… well, not really. If they were to separate the useful parts of prey, it would best not to use something like her knife; that would simply hack apart half of the useful stuff. That was another thing to put on the list of things to find, somehow. The taller coyote wandered back into the dining room, peering at her bundle and offering a bag that he must have found in the living room. Smiling sweetly, she snatched the bag and stuffed the bundle as-is into the bag. She swung it onto her narrow shoulder, not expressing any discomfort, and glanced around the room at Laurel’s question. “Nope,” she replied, almost disappointedly. Too bad a hunting knife hadn’t decided to spring out at them.
She padded to the front of the house, stepping through the doorframe (without having to duck at all; a plus of her small stature) and peered around the dilapidated city. “I guess we should go try that store, then.” [/html]
[html] And if a hunting knife did spring out at them, he would have surely hoped it didn't get lodged into either one of them. Not that knives had a habit of springing out from who knew where, but that didn't mean that the place couldn't have been booby trapped or rigged to do something that devious. He ducked and dodged the doorframe, following Nikita out the doors without much other than tired sigh at her words. Daylight was fading and truth be told, he was already beat just from walking all the way there. Plus there had been the wandering about the city before they had run into Laurent by chance, he reckoned that they had surely racked up the mileage for the day. Squinting against the late afternoon sun, he eyed the cracked windows of the building as they meandered across the street.
“It'll be nice to see if this all comes together. It's been a while since there were a few other bodies lying around worth talking to,” he mused, then peering inside of the building as though he were able to see through the years of grime and dust. There were a few boxes in the foreground he could make out, but the rest lied in the dark and well out of the dying rays of the sun. Venturing inward, Laurel instinctively winced at the dust that was stirred up by simply opening the door and promptly sneezed thereafter. “But I'll be glad when this is over with.” The dust was another thing his companion's knife couldn't do anything, unfortunately. The shop that they had entered wasn't a camping store like Laurel hoped… he wasn't even sure what it was. [/html]
[html] A souvenir store was the first thing that came to my mind, heh.
It was getting rather late. Perhaps this whole gathering mission would have to be finished on a later day, because they had a few wolves to gather up and move to the new site. The afternoon sun sank and grew dimmer, it’s warm and familiar light reflecting oddly off of the broken glass and grimy surfaces of the long-since forgotten city. Niki would love leaving — this place got rather depressing in a hurry. Keeping a lighter tone in her mind, she came up to Laurel’s side and peered sideways into the building while listening to him talk. “Definitely,” she agreed. “We’ve definitely gathered an interesting group this time around.” She grinned, anticipating the group dynamics of all five of them and finding the end product rather amusing.
“Yeah,” she grunted, breathing through her mouth as to avoid clogging her nose with age-old dust. “Rummaging around in this place is probably something we can both live without.” She was half-worried about getting some kind of lung affliction due to all of the shit she could be inhaling right now. She refocused her thoughts on the boxes and items scattered along the floors and on the remaining shelves. There was a great amount of things — most broken — and none of them really jumped out at her as being exactly super-helpful for their little camping site. Most were very small; trinkets really. Broken pieces of ceramic were grouped in piles with broken pencils and leaking pens, all covered in a fine layer of dust and other debris. It wasn’t really appealing. She drifted away from her companion’s side, searching through the boxes that she found against the far walls and in the small adjacent rooms. Really, there was nothing much of interest — things that probably haven’t been of interest since the humans had disappeared from this town. That was until she came across one box, used her knife to get rid of the remaining tape, and looked inside. “Hey,” she called, standing up and holding out one of the items against her. It was a faded blue-gray color and looked like a massive hooded cape. In black lettering on the back was ‘City of Halifax’. One thing that had caught her attention was that it was waterproof. She read the lettering on the side of the box. “Rain ponchos. Huh. Well, they certainly could be a bit useful. We could cut the seams and use them to make temporary rain-proof shelters and tents and stuff.” It would take a lot of cutting and sewing, but perhaps it might be worth it. [/html]
[html] “Or wear ‘em,” he added with a wiry grin. He couldn't help but think, perhaps a bit too mischievously about sticking one of those ponchos on Zephyr and letting him wander around. With the hood drawn back, it would have looked like they had a red eyed cape wearing monster on the loose! “But they look like they'd hold up well for a number of purposes. Still got room for them in that pack of yours?” If not, there were bound to be more things that they could put things in. Or if push came to shove, they could at least wear them since it had been acting like it was going to rain for most of the day anyway.
He ventured past her once more to wander down the shelves before Nikita could answer him (not like they couldn't hear one another, at least), taking little interest in the ink pens that had lost their contents and since then dried out all over whatever. There were books, maps (which Zephyr had cleverly brought along earlier), and little bits of nothing and everything. Souvenir shops always had something in them that was useful, it just depended on how one decided to look at it. But at the very helm of the seemingly useless shop, Laurel saw something that caught his eye quite quickly. “Hey, you were talking about fancy earlier and everything, but I think I found something that trumps some dirty dishes,” and not that what he had found wasn't dirty, but it was emblazoned with plenty of pretty things.
Fancy China dinnerware, anyone? [/html]
[html] “Or that,” she replied, matching his grin. Whyever would they want to use an item for the intended purpose, however? She slipped the pack from her shoulder, gently setting it down on the cluttered floor. Gathering as many of the waterproof slips as she could, she folded them into a fiercely tight bundle and stuffed them unceremoniously into the already near-stuffed bag. She briefly struggled with the clasps on the bag before getting them fastened. It looked like it was about to explode, but Nikita thought that it would hold up well enough. She left the bag where it was; no sense hauling it around while they continued to explore around this little shop for any other useful things lying around.
When Laurel moved towards the front of the shop, she wandered along the back. She came across a tall set of shelves that were completely laden with t-shirts. Smiling impishly to herself, she held one up to her, as if considering buying it. The word ‘Halifax’ was embroidered on the sleeve in several different languages, though the dull yellow fabric wasn’t decorated with anything else. Losing interest fast, Niki tossed the dirty cloth back onto the shelf and continued to search around.
Finding absolutely nothing else of interest, she moved swiftly to where Laurel was standing once he spoke up once more. Her eyes widened slightly at his golden discovery, and she laughed roughly. “My, my. We’re going to be one fancy group of gypsies,” she said, picking up one of the decorated plates in one hand and a Halifax-emblazoned mug in the other. “Awesome. Now to put it in…” she looked around quickly before putting the things she had picked up done and flitting over to a near-empty cardboard box. She dumped out the remaining contents and then came back to the front, putting some of the pretty china in it. “I didn’t really see anything else interesting back there, though, unless you want a t-shirt saying that you love the city of Halifax.” She grinned. [/html]
[html] Laurel joined her laughter for a moment, shaking his head. “Maybe we should throw out the booze and find some wine. That would make it really high class,” but of course, he knew that they would do no such thing. Yet. “And I think I can live without that shirt, not that I don't live the city for giving us these things so far.” One day in time they would amass many things and as long as there was enough supply around, Laurel had no problem frequenting it for whatever he needed. It even went as far as him thinking about learning to make some of the very objects that were already made, if only to cut back on the desire and allure of wandering loose in the city.
His gaze was trained on every little bit around them for a moment, studying over the fine details just like he had in the house only minutes ago. As he gazed upward, something caught his eye once more and his grin slipped back across the length of his pointed muzzle. “Looks like this place has a little bit of a loft up there,” he announced, letting his eyes trail the low half wall across to where it blended far into the back of the store where Nikita had gone. He turned and headed that way, following the architecture of the building and catching up with her and the goods. “I think there's a staircase around here somewhere, at least that's how the building acts. Maybe it's in one of the back rooms…” [/html]
[html] You get to decide what they find upstairs, since I decided this would be a souvenir store. 
She laughed, though it was partially grim. Of course, no group with Nikita in it would ever throw out any kind of booze. She finished putting all the items of use into the box and carried it to the front of the store, putting it down near the door. She also ferried the bag of items to the same place and set it down on top of the box. She sighed, the action turning into a cough, when she heard Laurel speak up. Her long ear pricking, she followed his voice until she noticed what he was pointing out. Yes, though she hadn’t noticed it, there was something about the room that made you think there was something upstairs. Her quick eyes glanced around the edges of the room. She saw two door — one near the back and another behind the front desk. She moved to the prior, pushing the door gently. It was already open, and the groaning hinges made her cautious. Nothing broke, however, and she peeked inside the room. Nothing. Just a bunch of overturned empty boxes. Maybe something interesting had been in there before, but it was long gone now.
She moved to the check-out desk, hopping nimbly up onto it and then to the area behind. She frowned, her eyes on the ground. It was littered with broken glass and ceramics, making it like a minefield to someone who didn’t wear any shoes. She picked her path through it and finally arrived at the door. She tried the knob, but it was locked. A grimace sprang onto her face, and she glanced back to Laurel. “Locked. Wonder what they’d have to lock up here?” She looked down to the ground again, shoving aside debris and clearing an area for her. She glared at the rusted and rattled hinges before lunging forward. She struck the side of the old door with her shoulder, grunting at the impact. Even from such a small creature, it was a pretty formidable assault for the old structure. The hinges squealed and gave way; the wooden door fell inward, landing on the ground with a crash. Dust was thrown up into the air, creating a small smokescreen so Nikita couldn’t exactly see what all was in the room. She did, however, see the faint outline of a staircase.
That was before she turned, covering her nose with her hand and sneezing mightily. Her eyes watered with all of the dust that had been thrown up in the air by her little MGS-action. She decided to wait there until everything settled before going to explore. [/html]
[html] “Something worth keeping locked up, that's what,” he said in jest, but also in near completely seriousness. A pretty little loft way up above a souvenir shop was something that shouldn't have been hidden away from the world! With the tall windows at the front of the building, it was a very lit place and he imagined that one could see out over the suburbs and all of the little cookie-cutter houses from there. With the door lying on the stairs, Laurel simply crawled right over the top of it, ignoring the fact that he slid almost the second he put his foot on it. One hand grabbed a hold of the railing with an iron grip, skipping stairs as he went up (a benefit of having long legs!) and soon the top dusty step was all his. At least until he moved out of the way for his short-statured companion.
There was nothing up there but crates, but not just any kind of crates. “I think this city is made completely out of liquor. Completely. Though from the looks of the tables up here… maybe they were going to do something with all of it. A junk shop with a bar on top?” He'd go for it, really. Given how out of the way those stairs were, maybe they had been by the back door. Maybe there was something more to a Halifax souvenir shop than they realised! One crate had already been gotten into, so that was the crate that Laurel investigated first. He pulled out one of the bottles, finding that there wasn't a label at all to be seen. “You think we oughta try some of this and make sure it ain't poison?” [/html]
[html] She sensed Laurel slip past her to go up the stairs, and decided that it was safe to venture forth. Sneezing one final time and wiping the tears from her eyes with a dusty hand (which really didn’t help much of anything), she turned and carefully made her way to follow the taller coyote. He seemed to float up the stairs with little effort, but the smaller Nikita needed to jog up each and every step. She joined him at the top of the staircase, looking at the place they had found with a blank face before it ignited to life in a impish grin.
“Alright, I take all of that stuff back. This is my kind of town,” she crooned, stepping lightly over to the boxes and looking over them with bright eyes. A goldmine, an absolute goldmine! They wouldn’t have to worry about going booze-less at all; something that Nikita rarely had the pleasure of doing. She flicked her green gaze over to Laurel as he picked up a bottle and spoke. Still grinning like a fiend, she nearly skipped over and took one of the bottles that had been in the same box. There was no label at all, but she wasn’t deterred in the slightest. As long as this wasn’t a rat poison store in the guise of a bar, she was fine. She held the bottle loosely in her left hand and drew her knife with her right, breaking the faded seal and popping the cork out in a fluid motion. She then put the knife away and took a long drink from the bottle. Afterwards she screwed up her face in mock deep thought and smacked her lips. “Well, if it’s poison, it’s damn good-tasting poison,” she said with a shrug, taking another sip.
Feeling much more good-natured due to the drink, she flitted around the room, opening boxes and checking cabinets. The place was practically bristling with booze. The thought made her head swim with happiness. By the time she was done exploring, the bottle was mostly empty. She looked at it balefully before speaking to Laurel. “’M not exactly sure how we’re gonna get all this back to the campsite.” It’d be even harder if they kept drinking. [/html]
I THINK I KNOW FROM WHERE NIKITA CHANNELS HER BOOZING...
[html] He shook his head with a wayward grin, not surprised in the least that she would hop to getting into it. Surely what they found earlier would do to take back to the campsite for a little while, since he doubted that they were all going to tear into it first thing. Though at the same time, he could recall a time or two long before he had met the likes of Nikita where he and several others had. Provided they hadn't consumed it all on the way back. “At any rate, I'm not sure how I'll get you back there. Drag you along by the tail, I suppose,” he joked, prying his own bottle open and perhaps too cautiously giving it a smell before he took a drink. It had been a while (or not, he honestly didn't try and figure it out) since he had come across something as fine tasting as they had discovered, but it was a well acquainted taste.
“I think we could figure out how to lug a couple more bottles back and if anything, just come back for more later. The rest of the crates are sealed so unless someone has that knife of yours or a crowbar, they aren't going to get into them.” Since they had broken down the door, it would no doubt only be a matter of time before someone else nosed around. Laurel sincerely doubted that they would try and carry one of the crates down because he believed it took a lot more work having gotten them upstairs to store them. Sitting down against the wall that housed the windows, he decided that a little rest was in order and knew very well that Nikita would not object to a drink or two and a break. Though the real question now was whether or not they were capable of moderation… [/html]
[html] O RLY.
Peering over the top of the bottle that she held to her lips, she gave Laurel a sly, smoldering glance. Drag her back by the tail indeed! If things went the way they were going, neither of them would be getting back in a timely manner. She grinned when she thought of the three others in their merry band, wandering around and wondering what the hell had happened to those two wayward coyotes. She paused in her thoughts to take a final swig from the bottle, giving a lopsided grin to no one in particular before setting it down on the dusty floorboards next to her. She took one glance around the room before agreeing with his solution, “Yeah, that makes sense.” They could get a pretty good stash of booze back at camp just from taking a few of these bottles each, and they could always go and get more. Or even find more. They had gone to a few houses and stores, and two of them had had alcohol in them. It seemed like a pretty good possibility others had stores like this as well.
As for the two coyotes having any sense of moderation, there really wasn’t much of a question on Nikita’s case. She wandered over to the bar, cracked open another crate with a deft pry with her blade, and selected another bottle. This one was, perhaps mercifully, a bit smaller. But, as she had said before, size didn’t really matter when it came to many things. Booze was one of them. The difference between someone having three bottles of beer and three shots was the proof.
She walked nonchalantly over to Laurel, turned around, and slid down to sit next to him on the cluttered floor. She popped the cork on the bottle and took a sip, her olive eyes staring hazily in front of her. Despite any resistance she had put up against alcohol, it got to her regardless. Her mind buzzing and swimming pleasantly, she pulled her knees up closer to her and rested her arms on them. The bottle hung limply from her right hand. “What did you do before I met you and we started wanderin’ around together?” she asked somewhat suddenly. It didn’t seem like a very interjectory question to her at the time, though. Of course, maybe it deserved an explanation. “I was just thinkin’. I’ve known you for over a year and I don’t think I’ve ever bothered asking.” Perhaps it had been an unspoken agreement, not to talk about pasts previously. Right now, in the threshold of a new chapter in their adventures, maybe that agreement didn’t apply. [/html]
YARLY.
[html] If all water was liquor, he wouldn't dare to doubt that Nikita would have been on it like stink was to shit. Though he found the way she finished one bottle and exchanged it unceremoniously for another, he also had a sinking feeling in the fit of his stomach that he would end up dragging her back to somewhere. Either over his shoulder at the cost of some item or as stated before, by the tail. But the smile didn't fade from his face, even when she plopped down on the dirty floor beside him with half a glazed look permeating itself on her face. The eyes were always the start of everything, which he studied for a moment out of the corner of his own. Eyes were one of the few traits that they had in common.
As for her question, he was quiet for a moment, wondering if she had ever asked him. He thought for sure that she had at some point in time, but it would have been a long time ago. A lot of things had happened between now and then and his story had no doubt blended with any other face that they had come along. “Same thing I did before you and I started wanderin’ around together. I wandered,” he said with a toothy smile. “I've been wandering around since I was old enough to stand on two feet and run around without toppling over.” Wandering around had been the only thing he had never done in his life and frankly, he had never explored other options. Once he had met up with a band of gypsies, the story of his life was a closed case. He liked the carpe diem lifestyle. But when it really boiled down to it, time got away from him.
“Has it really been a year already?” [/html]
[html] Perhaps she had asked him before, but simply couldn’t remember now. Nevertheless, it was something that she had had on her mind for a few hours now, since they had started scouring the city. Once she heard his reply, she thought that perhaps it was the fact that it wasn’t anything special that made her forget. But perhaps it was the lack of color in the tale that made it all the more better of an answer. She knew acutely that she had never answered a question about her past before — that was something she guarded pretty closely to herself, even under the influence of mind-bending liquor. She nodded to his reply, and listened to his next out-loud thought. Yes, it had been a year — whether it felt like it or not. Was a year of traveling with someone worth the trust enough to share secrets? She didn’t know that Laurel had any, but she knew she did. And she thought that a year might be worth just that. She fastened it in her mind then — if he asked at some point from now on, she would answer.
“Yeah, it has. Weird, huh?” She crossed her ankles, taking another drink from the bottle before setting it down. It was still half-full, but she decided she might pursue it later. She really was worried about Laurel having to carry her home after all. “Y’know what else is weird? We’ve been wandering for all that time — and you even longer — and we’ve decided pretty recently to stop. Wonder why.” She smiled vaguely, though her thoughts were quite serious. Though she didn’t voice it (afraid of sounding negative), she also wondered how long that it would last. Could two wandering coyotes really decide to glue their feet to a spot in such a short time? Seems like it. [/html]
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