#brxtus

Vulpes turned to look st Brutus. "To answer that question you would have to look back at the original romens... they didn't necessarily have a coyote, but rather a bear or even a lion. It had a symbolic meaning to each user depending on the chosen animal."

He side eyes Fiona as she sits in the corner looking at Brutus trying to hold off a giggle before continuing.

"I used a coyote because that is really what we have available, if I could find a fox perhaps I would upgrade..but it has nothing to do with this furry business you speak of."

“Not much of a talker, are ya?” Cicero asks this with a sort of bored tone.

It would seem that this particular mission in the Strip was ‘dangerous’ and so he was assigned a ‘bodyguard’ of sorts. Which was strange enough. Cicero could take care of himself, proved he could take care of himself. So what gives? It almost felt like he was in trouble. Like he was being punished by being assigned a ‘babysitter’ almost. Sure he caused the Legion a little bit of undue trouble on his last mission, but surely it didn’t warrant... well... this!

Not only that, but the brutish man who now followed him across the hot sands towards the Strip didn’t seem to be much of a conversationalist. Opting mostly to stay to himself. Stay quiet.  Some would think that having a partner would be fun. Or at least help with the loneliness of the desert. But currently? It only felt a bit uncomfortable. Being watched all the time by someone he had only just met. A Centurion. A sledgehammer wielding brute whom Cicero had heard of before. Wherein Cicero trusted his wiles and knives, this one trusted in his hammers and the pounding drums of war.