Re: The Cat: Patrick G/MJ W
[Patrick was at the end of a long shift, and dude was tired. The days after the full moon were always long, and he was nearing the end of that work-week, and the guy just wanted a couch and a coffee-table to prop his feet upon. Con was still off collecting catci and aliens on Route 66, and Patrick had Casa Gunster to himself. Which meant that Casa Gunster was currently a terrible and most impressive mess. He kept telling himself he'd right all wrongs before Con returned, but he knew his own bullshit. He'd look sheepish when she arrived, but the house would most certainly be in disarray.
Off topic, my dudes, but true.
Right, right... long day. It had been a long day, and dude had hauled it all the way over to the next county, where a stratovolcano slumbered loudly. He'd come back with obsidian, but don't feel bad about the long haul, man. A slumbering giant was a wonder to behold, and dude always found the Cascade Volcanic Arc to be awe inspiring in the extreme.
But, right, right, it was the end of a long day, and dude arrived at the bar out of uniform, in a hoodie, white and denim. His boots were caked with the woods, and the guy smelled green, and his hair was a mess that barely covered his most impressively pointy ears.
He walked in, knocked on the wall.] Knock knock. [And bellied up to the bar on supremely long legs.] What is it with girls and long earrings? [He pulled a black rock out of his pocket. Said rock was shiny and smoothed by water, and it was the size of his palm. He set said rock down for the girl, who he expected to tell him off in a major way if she wasn't MJ.]