((312)) Sorry for poor quality, I'm not feeling very well at all tonight. Forward dated to the 8th, correct?
He had found a few ways to amuse himself during his stay in Halifax, and it just so happened that dress up was one method.
Harvey Butler had realized soon after his arrival to Nova Scotia that possession lead to nothing but ruthless desire and selfishness, thanks to his experiences in his old gang back in London, but, nonetheless, the luperci couldn't help but to loot about the ruined city for tattered human artifacts.
Amongst his newly acquired treasures was his outfit; he wore a pair of black short, loose enough to ride low on his hips, allowing his tail to hand outside, and able to swing freely. Atop his mess of copper coloured locks were a pair of old, scratched and smudged aviator sunglasses, and around his neck he'd loosely tied a black tie (improvised, as he had not the slightest idea of how to properly go about wearing it).
Despite what other may or may not have thought about his appearance, the red merle australian shepherd felt comfortable and appealing. Then again, he most usually felt appealing, thanks to his larger than usual ego.
He hummed softly to himself, wandering along the cracked and littered streets, occasionally stopping in his path to inspect an item that had caught his attention, before starting back up, headed to an unknown destination.
The aussie dog had gotten to meet a few residents of the land, and with information gained, as well as having a place to stay, even if only temporary, Harvey's disposition had grown more positive, comfortably able to call this new area home.
There were still things he missed from his old life... Popularity, status, wealth, reputation... He loved having attention, especially if it benefited him.
But he but that behind him for now. He had planned to start life new, and, so far, was happy with what he'd been handed.
[html] 443 | His outfit is here! (minus the boots) And yup, the 8th.
He didn't really want to be anywhere but his new home, but the boy had learned some very interesting things about his father in the last few days. The trip had been... worth it. So on Jericho's back- the mare now a touch healthier than the day he'd joined Vinatta- he planned to traveled North, back home. He'd come south to visit Halifax, having heard things about the place, but before he could leave and go home, he had to pick up a few things first.
A few hours into his salvaging expedition, or so he liked to think of it as, the boy had collected quite a few new items. Many were just old blankets and pelts, things he could pile onto Jerri's back without any problem. Others were smaller trinkets- bottles, containers, books. He'd found a few knives, though he'd have to find someone to fix them into working condition. A black handled pair that seemed to be the same thing, just replicated, and a wooden handled hunting knife a little like his own. He'd sell the black handled ones- they didn't seem to suit him any. The wooden one, he'd probably keep.
Jericho was happy to walk along beside him, because he'd stopped on the way at an apple tree. Every time he loaded her with something new, an apple would be pulled from his bag and fed to her- she didn't mind working for treats, even if the blankets and furs made the weather almost unbearably hot. She'd survive.
They came to a stop once more in front of another abandoned building. Most of the houses and buildings that still have rooves had either been taken as temporary homes or stores, or else had been lived in for short times by various travelers on their way through the city. This particular one appeared to have a guest. Ink stopped at the broken doorframe, staring in until his eyes adjusted to the change in light. Jerri waited outside, ready to kick anyone who came near her while her boy was busy.
Ink shuffled carefully into the old building, keeping careful paws away from rubbage that snag his clothes. They didn't really make for easy travels- he'd regretted his choice in clothing early into the trip. Dual colored eyes scanned the room and spotted the source of life, a tall, patchy dog with orange hair and brown fur. Male. Ink perked his ears slightly and leaned against a shelf, one that seemed to be connected to the floor. "This stuff taken, then?" He called over, trying to play it cool in hopes of not getting picked on.
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((334)) Oh, I like his styllleeee! ;u;
Looking around for nothing in particular, Harvey continued to scavenge through the, for the majority, destroyed homes. He found a watch, and even draped it over a wrist, picturing how it'd look, but he tossed it away after closer inspection; not only did it not work, but the face was broken and the leather strap torn.
His long haired tail wagged somewhat, the male obviously amused with his treasure hunting.
Oblivious to anything around him, the merle aussie dog didn't hear the stranger come near, but the sudden voice caused his flopped ears to perk (as much as flopped ears could).
He turned to the source, and couldn't help but to smirk at the other's relaxed demeanor.
Bi-coloured eyes scanned over the younger male, interested and intrigued by the choice of clothing. It was different than anything else he'd seen worn by others in this new land (though, most of the people he met lately were mostly, if not naked), but he liked it. Something about the stranger impressed the ex-gangster. Perhaps the disposition, or his style... He wasn't sure, but he seemed a descent enough bloke.
Nah, mate... 'Ave a grab at what ya want, ain't plannin' t' take much for meself. Harvey shrugged. Though his accent was distinctly British, it was a cocktail of dialects acquired through his travels. Thanks to his being born and raised mostly in the East End of London, though, his being a Cockney was most prominent in speech. Jus' lookin' 'round, don't really 'ave anyfin' else t' do, now, hm?
He wasn't going to be shown up by the younger canine. Despite his first impression being a relatively positive one, Harvey was egotistical. The Brit leaned against a stained table nearby, arms crossed over his broad chest, grinning to the other. He could play it just as cool.
Until the table creaked rather menacingly and caused the luperci to hurriedly stand back straight.
He gave a cheesy smile, Eh, so... Ya lookin' for somefin' in particular, mate?
[html] 210 | Pfft. Style's got nothing on a sexy accent. XD
The male's accent came as a surprise to the younger luperci. He couldn't help the crooked grin- accents were always interesting. People with accents had a habit of being even more interesting. Maybe conversation wouldn't be so bad. "Heh, I know that." He took delicate steps through the stray rubble and took a look at an old shelf full of books, scanning the spines with only half interest.
The merle man seemed to want conversation, too. A question. Ink turned and thought about it a moment, shrugging. "Just odds and ends. I have a new house to furnish and stock." The grin that came next was almost boasting- the boy was very happy to have a solid home to live in, and a pack to call his. "Name's Ink, by the way. Ink Trovato." He stepped over to offer his hand to the man, and if it was received, his shake would be firm and well trained- not a fighter's, but a business man's. Respectful.
"Just settled in North of here." He shrugged it off- his home was only a province or two over, not very far. It wasn't as if he were a local, either, yet, but his backstory wasn't all too interesting in his own opinion.
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((259)) xD Aw. Accents are fun~
The others expression interested Harvey. He couldn't help but to return a grin.
His accent was that of a Cockney, the male being from the East End of London himself. Though he'd traveled around the country and had heard and learned many different dialects, his way of speaking stayed true to his hometown, for the majority.
Ah, a new 'ouse, yeh? Got meself a place t' stay recently, I did. The merle luperci nodded, Livin' wif a lovely lil' bird, she is. Quite nice, so far. 'Ope t' find somefin' more permanent for meself, but, for the time bein'... He shrugged, smiling to the stranger, I can't complain.
Harvey nodded, shaking the male's hand. It was a gesture he'd been used to, back in London, but so far, he hadn't met another who ever offered their hand. His grip was strong, but not overpowering.
Harvey Butler. He grinned, enunciating the 'er' sound at the end of his surname, though he'd usually pronounce it 'Butlah'. Pleasure t' meetcha, Mr. Trovato.
Despite being aware that he was probably much older than the stranger, the Brit was typically a respectful and formal individual. During his time as a gangster in London, calling one by their last name was common, especially the higher ups.
The patchy dog shifted through a box of items somewhat, his attention still mostly on the other as he spoke. The North, eh? Been a bit north meself, jus' wonderin' 'bout. I live 'ere, jus' a lil' ways away. I like it 'ere... Reminds me of 'ome. Harv smiled.
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