So These Two Cursed Guys Walk Into A Pub...
He’d stepped outside to give his ears a break from the merry making inside. The pub was rowdier than normal tonight. But not in a bad way. Someone’s birthday and well no one ever said Irish celebrated anything quietly. Because where was the fun in that?
Fire sparks in the darkened ally way, brief but luminescent. Lighting up his features in a way that might give tell to the creature he’d once been. Was in someways still. But it comes and goes with the match flame. Nothing more than momentary flicker in a city that hadn’t noticed. Smoke expelled from lungs that will never know the consequences of such a bad habit.
Phone pulled out of his pocket to habitually check incoming messages. Never know when one might be a job worth bothering with. But even that is stowed away again after a moment. The not so human turning his back to the alley. Watching the proverbial world go by as he lets the ringing in his ear slowly ebb.
Which will be exactly what he blames, for not hearing the other male approach. What excuse he will make for being quite literally though inadvertently snuck up on. And when the collision happens--well its honestly the very last sort of person he expects to have run into him. Let alone apologizing for it a second later. Even as he instinctively intakes a good bit of air, scenting his accidental assailant in the process.
And he means that, even if he’s a little not precisely happy, to be sharing space with the other not human. Because honestly he’s thrown a little off kilter with the manners. Beyond the fact that the other hadn’t seen him? Has to be a bit of a light joke. But regardless that’s all second to the smell of blood, and the hiss of pain he picks up woven into the other’s words.
“D’ough ye be lookin’ loi’ke ye had be’er noi’ghts.”
