#leafingaround

Artist: Oliver

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Artist: Oliver

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It had been a fair bit since Petrel had set foot in Vermilion. Although that was probably definitely a symptom of "lying low"; y'couldn't exactly travel much. 

The air smelled as salty as he remembered it. People swore they were sailors left and right, and for the most part, the gym stayed in his visual distance. All he needed was the boat. Unlike usual, Petrel just wasn't in the mood for attention today. 

A Petrel with dirty brown hair and a paid for ticket made it onto the ship just fine, which was less a relief and more of a reflection on just how dumb the world was. Maybe they'd stopped looking for him; maybe they just didn't recognize him without purple hair--either way they were idiots.

This particular ship wasn't as fancy as the SS Anne. Rather than full on rooms, the little cabins reminded Petrel of a fancy train. He didn't mind so much, but it lessened the guarantee that he'd be alone, even if he did manage to find a room that was empty. 

He did, though. All the way in the fucking back.

Petrel slid his bag off his shoulder and plopped onto the plush seat, legs all the way across the cushion. Hopefully, any potential passers by would get the message. He did at least consider some options for company: his party could always use some fresh air to fuck up. The fact that his space was small inclined him to pick out a Koffing--maybe one that was a little bit less of a dick than he was.

As soon as he did, the air started to taste more familiar. This Koffing loved affection, and it grinned when Petrel gave it light scratches. "Gotta long ride, but I betcha don't mind that, do y--"