@ferroics
Caster was sitting on one of the benches in the park, the staff at his side, the cerulean hair messy, his whole appearance shabbier than usual, almost as if he had been trying to hunt or sleeping in the wilderness. But there was a certainty, his pockets were as empty as his stomach.
For someone who knew no defeat, this was the closest thing to misery he had known in several years. Whatever he had, had gone for Medb’s ‘funds’ as he tried to show her around the city... somehow. And the rest had been smoked into nothing. Good ol’ cigarettes, he’d never get tired of his companions.
He’d have to wait until the next payday or beg at the zoo for an advance. Caster’s eyes were closed as his head hung backwards on the bench as he snored or tried to think what he’d do with his dinner. So far, mentally facepalming was the only idea lodged in his mind.
