It’s Leaking!! || Kemper & Ryden
The Den was full of commotion. Usually for similar reasons it always was - full of loud wolves just being rowdy and, well, loud with all their interactions. Even though it was out of commission, it was still very much an epicenter of activity, never giving a dull moment. A small crowd had gathered just outside its mediocre-sized kitchen area in the back, the obvious ‘closed’ sign having stopped no one who really wanted to get in. They all curiously tried to squeeze in, peeking inside as if there was something wildly interesting going on there.
Careless feet stepped through an advancing puddle coming into the rest of the bar from the kitchen, making the floor messy all over the place. Someone tried to mop up but gave up halfway through because the minor flooding was not looking any close to being stopped soon. Helpful advice was being shouted, each one louder than the next, trying to overpower the previously proposed ideas like it was some sort of a competition.
“It’s the drain, the drain is leaking, obviously!”
“Shifting plumbing lines, my place had that problem, not that uncommon.”
“Worn out connections, bro. The entire thing will have to get replaced. Pshh, it’s gonna be pricey…”
“Yeah, yeah yeah, pipe corrosion causing fractures in the plumbing lines, for sure, for sure.”
“Man, it’s a clog. You’re making it worse, water can’t pass through the drain if there’s a clog! You’ll actually bust the pipe that way, you’re putting it under stress! Where’s the plunger? Kevin! Find the plunger.”
“What the fuck man, how should I know where it is, you go find it!”
“Duct tape!! Pass the duct tape!!!”
Ryden’s eye twitched in annoyance. He wasn’t sure if it was because a constant drip was trying to hit him in the eye or because he was seriously contemplating murder. He was sitting in a puddle, his ass wet, trying to stick his broad upper body as much as he could in the confined area under the kitchen sink, looking up at it upside down with a wet wrench key constantly slipping out of his grasp, people leaning over him so they could also take a look and at least a dozen voices in his head giving him all the useless tips they could think of.
Finally, he snapped, roaring at the person sitting next to him shoulder to shoulder, trying to squeeze in there with him ‘helpfully’. “GODDAMNIT GARRET, stop stickin’ so close t’me, don’t… don’t touch me ya wet dog, scoot, scoot!” He raised the wrench threateningly, making his packmate, who was completely oblivious just how uncomfortable it was when two sweaty, drenched guys stuck close to each other on the floor, trying to fit into a space one man could barely stick his head into, look quite offended and confused. So he had to let Ryden know that there was no need for such a tone, that he was only trying to help. A no time for a heartfelt conversation, and now both of Ryden’s temples were twitching, his patience almost entirely spent.
Kemper was maybe the only wolf in the Den not actively trying to insert himself into the situation. Living out from under the rule and wealth of his parents had forced him to learn a handful of practical life skills, but he knew the intricacies of commercial kitchen plumbing were far behind him, and the last thing he wanted to do was stand there in front of half of the pack and neatly lay out for them all that he was still, in many ways, a pampered rich boy.
Still, the uproar continued, with no hint of resolution, the conversations beginning to run in circles, and just when Kemper had gotten up from the stool he'd perched himself on, watching the commotion from afar, Ryden's barking broke through all the other noise. Kemper didn't jump at the sound, but he got quickly to his feet, reaching for the hem of his hoodie, pulling it up over his head in one clean gesture, shucking the bright orange outer layer so it didn't get soaked and dropping it across the bar top.
"Move, move, fuckin'-" Kemper's words were hardly more intimidating than Ryden's tone had been, and despite the muscles Hastalik and the bite had helped him develop, he wasn't nearly as bulky as most of the wolves trying to crowd the kitchen. Still, Kemper grabbed familiar arms, pulling and pushing, trying to direct all those who would obey back out to the main area of the bar, thankful that the vocal bite Ryden had taken out of Garret seemed to encourage most of them to let themselves be shooed out of the immediate area. Kemper's sneakers slipped on the tile, but he righted himself immediately, with only a small squeak to announce the misstep as he put himself near Ryden's legs where they stuck out from under the sink. He reached down, grabbing the belt loops of the other wolf who'd been too close for comfort, and hauled him away so that Ryden could get space to breathe.
Despite the warning in Ryden's obviously annoyed features, the wrench in his hand and the fact that Kemper knew he was all but useless here, he leaned over, not near as close as Garret had been, but enough to flash Ryden a toothy grin. "What d'you need?"