"…You really aren’t that creative are you? " ( Anons just wanna watch the world burn )

"You have a lotta nerve being in my presence, white coat."

(( No. You stay over there. Neeeiiin ; ; ))

┈≡▓ {✘}       It had to be her. Of course it did. Just... fuckin'a course it did. He trusted her about as much as he trusted Greed's cooking. Which--for the record?--was not a lot. But he figured that much went without saying.

      But at the moment, none of that really fucking mattered. What did matter was several of the Nest chimera had been missing for not days, not weeks, but months. One of them had only recently returned, giving him a large--albeit brief--sense of relief. With her safe homecoming, it opened the door for him to do some hunting; Martel could spend some much needed quality time with Genevieve and he could investigate the disappearance of the other chimera. Ro. Doc. Tatts. Vulch. Whiskers. Their absence in Dublith, from their presence to their scents, was beginning to wear on him.

                           And it'd been just her damn bad luck to cross the alley when she did.

      Green eyes narrowed at the sight of her familiar figure, lips drawing back to bare pointed teeth. The doc hadn't even seen him yet and already she was pissing him off. Usually the canine splice wasn't one to seek out trouble; he let it find him and acted accordingly. But things were different tonight. Five family members were missing... and he had one of the hell-bringers themselves just feet from his grasp.

       He didn't move from where he knelt in the alley shadows. And though his form was easily veiled by the black of the night, the unsettling shine of his unhuman eyes could faintly be seen reflecting the street lights. "... a little late for a stroll."

70. Our muses are destined to fall for each other when they’re stranded on an island 

"... not on your fuckin' life." 

(( that awkward moment when I have the urge to rp as one of my unicorn OCs. ))