he's  tucked  himself  away  between  two  buildings,  scarf  tugged  over  his  head.  golden  eyes  scan  the  crowds  —  though  unfortunately,  there  isn't  much  else  the  halovian  can  do  beyond  hoping  his  doppelganger  eventually  finds  his  way  home  like  a  meandering  cat.

paranoia  gnaws  away  at  him.  sunday  takes  a  step  back,  retreating  further  into  the  alleyway  —  only  to  freeze  when  he  bumps  into  someone  else.  feathers  tickle  his  cheeks  as  his  wings  try  futilely  to  tuck  themselves  ever-deeper  into  the  scarf.  the  halovian  turns,  eyes  widening  (  then  narrowing  )  in  recognition  and  confusion  alike.  ❝  you ...  ❞

@drinksareonme &&. liked for a STARTER.

When one was faced with adversity so frequently it felt like mundanity, audacity seemed to come in abundance, perhaps courting death incessantly had knocked a few crucial screws loose in that head of his. He’s levelling Gallagher with an ingenuous stare so convincing that it would put the most wretched, whimpering puppy to shame. It doesn’t work, however, and he’s inwardly kicking himself for not concentrating on enhancing that particular skill further. There were still those immune to his charm and he laments that he is still being berated for a crime so distant in the past that the sticky residue had almost been wrung out of his sleeves. He would need a new jacket, he was born in this jacket, this is an unfathomable loss on his behalf actually. “ A compliment is a compliment.” he says airily, his grin the contagious sort that began as the corners lifting mischievously and ended in something blinding. “ I’ll take it.” from the timbre of his voice one would think he had earned himself a reasonable compensation for his woes albeit caelus is a simple man so simple pleasures will do him just fine. He rests his elbows on the bar, not daring to avert his gaze, as if he were challenging the amicable bartender to blink first.

@drinksareonme: A sizeable crowd has gathered around the table, watching with palpable anticipation as the stakes rise higher and higher — some hope for the gambler to win it all, while others silently wish for him to crash and burn. Gallagher recognizes the high roller as a man named Aventurine, someone Mr. Wings has been keeping his pretty little eyes on. He manages to ease his way to the front of the crowd thanks to his association with the Bloodhound Family, and leans in close enough to be heard over the hum of excitement. "Looks like this next round's winner-takes-all. Want me to blow on your dice for good luck?"

a crowd always gathering to watch the luck of the ipc gamble away meaningless trinkets to him never ceased to amuse him. vibrant blue-pink eyes glance through the lenses of his sunglasses as he sits at the table against the opponent, this dreamscape did feel like a dream finally, dice dancing between his fingers. then came the looming presence of a member of the bloodhound family and aventurine looks at the other with a small hum as he leans back. the dice relax in the palm of his hand, head tilting as he nods.

Even as someone governed by impulse these repercussions come for him immediately, yet caelus, who was the instigator of such chaos, seemed rather startled by the way the glass shatters, coating the bar in a sticky residue. Gallagher, who often wore a rather amicable expression was now glowering at him, which was entirely warranted but also compelled him to wearily raise his hands in an exaggerated act of surrender. Whatever had enticed him to act so rashly would no doubt reflect negatively on the astral express as a collective so in an abysmal attempt at apologising he begins to scour at the SoulGlad with his sleeve.