(no subject)

[tire_moi_mes_bottes]

It's a perfect day to go take a walk. Yes, it does look like rain; yes, he's supposed to be memorizing his Marx and Lenin; yes, it's Friday the 13th.

But since the door to Laigle's room seems to have vanished completely, leaving him stranded, it's a perfect day to go take a walk. To explore. To stretch his wings. He avoids the church building site on the principle that construction of any kind is a hazard, and he makes a general effort not to fall in any lakes and get eaten by mermaids, but he has no idea about the shooting range out back.

Whistling a jaunty tune, Bossuet goes to see the sights of Milliways.

((Just because I forgot that Friday the 13th was coming up is no reason for the canonically unlucky to escape fate. He's due to be set on by dogs, but if anyone wants to throw anything else in his direction, he's fair game. Just let me know before you drop anvils on his head?))

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[hecu_marine]

Shephard grunts. "Suit yourself," he says. "Tell you what, I'mma go take these little fuckers back to the Bar'n git you a spare pair. Least I c'n do, considerin' my dogs made you rip the ones you got."

Ordinarily he'd just get a needle and thread, but for some odd reason people don't seem all that inclined to huddle in trees while they fix their own pants.

"Sound fair?"

[tire_moi_mes_bottes]

"Those aren't dogs. You may not have noticed--it may have slipped your mind--but dogs generally have heads. They have paws, they make a noise like ouah, ouah. Such is my experience."

He's not letting go of his branch. "But--you know--another pair of trousers might not be taken amiss." He can always run away once the probably-not-a-demon-but-let's-not-be-hasty is out of sight.

[hecu_marine]

"Long story, friend, long story," says Shephard with a sigh. "They're as close as, where I come from. Less'n you want one of them big furry fuckers they got up the hell in Norway... I'll go git them pants. You four, come with me."

The houndeyes fall into line behind him as he heads back to the Bar, bow in hand.

[tire_moi_mes_bottes]

"...Thank you!" For taking the monsters away and going away himself, as much as for the rescue. And the pair of pants that Bossuet is not going to wait for. As soon as the man and his beasts are out of sight, Bossuet shimmies down, trying not to think about the state of his clothing.

He should really be looking up.