It's unclear which is weirder, to see October out of his usual heavy punk garb or stage jacket in favor of a black tank top and clearly hand-cut shorts in an attempt to at least look like he knows it's hot outside, or if it's more offputting that he seems to be in a relatively good mood. In fact, instead of his usual abject scowling, he seems almost plucky and jovial, a cigarette in the corner of his mouth, a beer in hand and conversing with one of the regular hangers-on around the little... collective, that circles Quinn. His dogs seemed to have made an appearance as well, and it is, in fact, Glory who seems to have taken pointed interest in another commune-dweller, having crept off now sniffing nervously at the pants leg of a stranger- who happened to be holding food.
"Glory." a voice rumbles flatly, October arching a brow as the dog sheepishly wags his tail and sits down- long nose still fully extended toward Remi's thigh. "Ah, I'm sorry about him, thinks with 'is stomach more than that walnut rattlin' about in there he calls a brain. Hope he didn't bother you too bad."
@cryptidkeepp