[Continued from HERE.]
@blendquirk:
The chameleon’s gaze flickered to the stranger, skin that had been blending with the shadows shifting and changing to a more visible hue - closer to his natural tone, but anxiety surrounding the stranger before him kept him ready to fade back into nothingness.
( stranger danger ! )
For a long moment, he said nothing, watching the other. It was only when the intrusive urge to touch the other’s fur caused his fingers to twitch, that he shifted to break from his own thoughts.
( broken fingers weren’t any fun )
“You in a rush or somethin’?”
Words soft spoken as his head tilted, one eye flickering to the end of the alley the other had come from, the other remaining firmly trained on his new conversation partner.
With another successful victory under his already accolade heavy belt, Chojuro had nice and thick stack of yen tucked away within his jacket. Maybe when he was younger, he would’ve blown it all away on fine cigarillos and booze, but now... It was far more important that they saved what funds he managed to rake in as much as they feasibly could. Maybe it felt a little silly to be cutting coupons and paying close attention to the local markets’ sales, but if they could save money they used on food and other necessities, then they’d have a bigger pool of cash to dip into. Any corners they could cut were well worth it, especially with street costs for contraband like weapons and Trigger being on the rise.
His elbow knocked into something soft, causing him to suddenly pivot on his heel and jerk back. Most of the pickpockets in this city knew to stay away well away from ‘Chimera’ but one could never be too sure. Could have been some new blood on the prowl- Even Kon had to hand it to the kid for being slick, as he’d not even noticed the other streetwalker when he first came down the alleyway.
Huffing a bit loudly through his canine nostrils, he slipped a clawed hand within the depths of his coat to pull out a cigar (and discreetly check the weight of the contents in the inner pocket). Sharp fangs made for ripping and tearing tore through the dark paper easily, the massive cage fighter spitting the end of the robusto onto the pavement.
“It’s past my bedtime,” he deadpans in a deep, throaty timbre. “What about you- Ain’t you got homework on a school night, kid?”
