Bitterness level: ☕☕☕️☕️☕️

"Barry Dort, got it," he repeated his name.

Espresso IS black, is what Tyler wanted to say but he kept it to himself. How high was this guy's horse telling him to not forget? But Tyler gave him a customer service smile and prepared his order.

Tyler's confused why Dort trusted him enough to tell him that. This man has ambition, I'll give him that.

"I think Jericho deserves a little variety around here. Would love to try that killer baked ziti you bragged about," he grins as he's cleaning the mugs.

Tyler thinks both Normies and Outcasts have cooperated to make Jericho better but that's all it will be, a working relationship. Also, he's just a 'normie' boy, what does he know?

There is a certain comfort that Ammonia finds in the New England woods that she does not find elsewhere - if she’s lucky, she’ll find some interesting flora, or perhaps even some natural remains to draw!

If she could currently draw, that is - which she cannot, with small feline paws. And really, this is what she gets for napping outside anyway.

She freezes when she scents someone nearby, feline ears turning towards the distant crunching of dead leaves. An aroma of espresso, very specific laundry detergent, and the most interesting musky undertone -

With careful, precise instincts, Ammonia stalks around a tree, then another, before clawing her way up the trunk and into a lower branch. Below her, now, stands the barista boy from the Weathervane, against the wood, seemingly… anxious.

Tyler's ears perked. He's walked through these trees many times, has never crossed a cat before. He engaged his smelling senses and follows it to a cat on a low tree branch.

He lets out a breath he did not know he was holding. He turns around quickly to make sure she isn't here yet. He could use a small distraction anyway.

"Hey little guy," he smiles. "Or girl. Never seen you around here before," as he carefully approach the tree. "You're not with a collar..." he noted under his breath— which means it isn't a lost cat.

That does not explain why he has such a… scent. It’s so unusual. Normie teenage boys will smell like obnoxious cologne, body odor, some terribly-pumped-full-of-chemicals junk food. Not only does Tyler smell quite impressively clean - especially for someone in the middle of the woods - but he also has an undertone in his musk that reminds Ammonia of a few of her classmates.

She tilts her head at him. How very curious.

"I don't think you'd get a lot from sniffing my jeans. Here." He held out his palm to her. "I hope I smell nice," he giggles.

He got tired of crouching and sat down, crossing his legs.

"This is nice. The wind, the leaves, grass and the quiet. The world stops for a second," he whispers as he did not want to disturb the quiet of the woods.

She sits down herself upon the leaves, places her paw on his knee, and purrs. Tilts her head with unblinking inquiry. Lets out a soft ‘mew.’

Feral creatures like myself often find comfort in the outdoors, her feline voice says. Again, she thinks of the undertone in his scent, laid before her - perhaps he is a werewolf, but keeps his status as such a secret among Normies? - but the werewolves that attend Nevermore alongside Ammonia each have varying scents with the same canine undertone - which Tyler does not seem to have.

Is it about what he said, hiding where no one else can find him?

"Just... people. A small few that breathes down your neck. Make a mistake and they'll ... claw you." he whispered the last bit conspiratorially. Which is ironic, considering he's the one with claws.

There is a certain comfort that Ammonia finds in the New England woods that she does not find elsewhere - if she’s lucky, she’ll find some interesting flora, or perhaps even some natural remains to draw!

If she could currently draw, that is - which she cannot, with small feline paws. And really, this is what she gets for napping outside anyway.

She freezes when she scents someone nearby, feline ears turning towards the distant crunching of dead leaves. An aroma of espresso, very specific laundry detergent, and the most interesting musky undertone -

With careful, precise instincts, Ammonia stalks around a tree, then another, before clawing her way up the trunk and into a lower branch. Below her, now, stands the barista boy from the Weathervane, against the wood, seemingly… anxious.

Tyler's ears perked. He's walked through these trees many times, has never crossed a cat before. He engaged his smelling senses and follows it to a cat on a low tree branch.

He lets out a breath he did not know he was holding. He turns around quickly to make sure she isn't here yet. He could use a small distraction anyway.

"Hey little guy," he smiles. "Or girl. Never seen you around here before," as he carefully approach the tree. "You're not with a collar..." he noted under his breath— which means it isn't a lost cat.

That does not explain why he has such a… scent. It’s so unusual. Normie teenage boys will smell like obnoxious cologne, body odor, some terribly-pumped-full-of-chemicals junk food. Not only does Tyler smell quite impressively clean - especially for someone in the middle of the woods - but he also has an undertone in his musk that reminds Ammonia of a few of her classmates.

She tilts her head at him. How very curious.

"I don't think you'd get a lot from sniffing my jeans. Here." He held out his palm to her. "I hope I smell nice," he giggles.

He got tired of crouching and sat down, crossing his legs.

"This is nice. The wind, the leaves, grass and the quiet. The world stops for a second," he whispers as he did not want to disturb the quiet of the woods.

There is a certain comfort that Ammonia finds in the New England woods that she does not find elsewhere - if she’s lucky, she’ll find some interesting flora, or perhaps even some natural remains to draw!

If she could currently draw, that is - which she cannot, with small feline paws. And really, this is what she gets for napping outside anyway.

She freezes when she scents someone nearby, feline ears turning towards the distant crunching of dead leaves. An aroma of espresso, very specific laundry detergent, and the most interesting musky undertone -

With careful, precise instincts, Ammonia stalks around a tree, then another, before clawing her way up the trunk and into a lower branch. Below her, now, stands the barista boy from the Weathervane, against the wood, seemingly… anxious.

Tyler's ears perked. He's walked through these trees many times, has never crossed a cat before. He engaged his smelling senses and follows it to a cat on a low tree branch.

He lets out a breath he did not know he was holding. He turns around quickly to make sure she isn't here yet. He could use a small distraction anyway.

"Hey little guy," he smiles. "Or girl. Never seen you around here before," as he carefully approach the tree. "You're not with a collar..." he noted under his breath— which means it isn't a lost cat.