Apr 1, 2015
A white dove lands on the nobleman's desk and struts rather agressivly across important looking paperwork until he has the full attention of the man before cooing. . . . Quite noisily.
He could have sworn he’d not left any windows open.
Achtung sat back in his desk chair, watching the dove with grave wariness as it marched all over his records of sale as if it owned the place; honestly, just who did this little featherbrain think it was?
“Sir, I must ask you to calm down.” Cooing itself into a frenzy like that, really, was this a dove or some slum pigeon?