#neotropical

Wow we're on a bug streak!

“vega, you’ve got to be more careful!” he admonishes in what’s almost a low growl, hands yanking jun into uprightness at the same time as he examines frantically for wounds in the neon-lit night. fortunately, there seems to be only long tears on the fox’s clothes and a handful of nasty scratches peppered throughout his body, but nothing that warrants true concern. “those lions could’ve alerted the other guards and ruined this whole op. had i been a second too slow i would be putting up with your dead body right now!”

what they have instead -- a pair of brutish felines knocked out cold in the alley adjacent to the warehouse they were meaning to infiltrate -- had most certainly not been part of the itinerary, but now they had to think quickly before someone else stumbled upon the dreadful scene, catching them.

“let’s take their clothes,” he decides aloud, panting still from the effort he’d just exerted, rivulets of steam trailing after every word. “pretend we’re guards.” 

“for how long should i keep them alive?”

he asks that question in much the same tone he uses to ask about someone’s new haircut, or what they should get for dinner. it bears as much weight on his mind as those pleasantries, gray eyes completely blank on all but the most languorous sort of attention.