[ P ] howling at a hollow moon

am i the wolf
or the savior?

is my smile too sharp,
or just my teeth?

It's stupid, his being here. He supposes it's a good thing he isn't a cat, else curiosity might kill him. Baptista is very pointedly avoiding any traces of Rhoswen, hoping she never discovers he's been here. It's not her prim and proper circles he's here to investigate anyway, but what else Yorkshire can offer him; tomorrow, he'll meet with a friend of friend, but tonight is his to enjoy—and he very much intends to.

He's chosen a more discreet bar to spend his evening in, the closest thing to a hole-in-the-wall that exists in this city, though it doesn't even begin to compare to the Drunken Seagull. The lighting is more gloomy than intentionally ominous, the drinks more costly than they're worth, tables a dull brown that suggests more beer has been spilled than cleaned from their surfaces. None of it bothers him; the booze is plenty strong enough to spark a steady buzz, and he always finds that the most interesting characters end up in establishments like this.

So Baptista lounges near the end of the bar, his elbow resting casually on the edge whilst a glass of bourbon dangles lazily in his grip. His mismatched eyes scan the patrons casually, entertaining himself with snippets of conversations passed across the tables, deals exchanged when they think no one is paying them attention, drinks spilled when a group across the room gets too rowdy over whatever betting game they're playing. It's no Sussex, but it'll do—and it's only a matter of time until Baptista intertwines himself with all of Yorkshire's social circles.

code // art

The war and time seem to have changed more than just splitting the country in two.

It was army duties that brought Nicharion all the way to Yorkshire, reports of the border matters that needed to be turned in, more of them than he cared to count. They could have been sent by raven, of course, but it's been so long since his paws had last graced the barracks... he thought he'd find something interesting to occupy him here. But there were no familiar faces to be seen, no company to be had.

To make matters worse, his duties have taken so much time that the mess hall has closed by the time he was free to do as he liked. For a hungry and weary wolf who had traveled all the way from the border, it was far from an ideal situation. Disgruntled, the major was forced to seek sustenance elsewhere.

Before he realized, his paws carried him to the tavern where he and Crow had shared their first night together. It was a habit not to let his thoughts dwell on his lover whenever they are apart; they both have their lives to live and matters to attend to... and yet, it would seem Nicharion couldn't help himself. Shaking off the pang of loneliness, he stepped inside and headed for the bar.

"You got any food?" he asked the barkeep, taking up a free seat. 'Just eggs and dried meat.' was the brusque answer. "Eh, it'll do. And some ale to go with that." Simple drink for simple food, there was no reason to get fancy and end up getting more disappointed by comparison. While he awaited his order, the major could analyze his surroundings to kill time...

Of all the wolves gathered here, the large male to his right stuck out like a sore thumb. Cleaner and more refined, drinking something that wasn't the cheapest option. Simple signs, but ones Nicharion had learned to quickly recognize in his old line of work. But unlike back then, the crimson brute was now also from a higher echelon than was typical for this place's clientele. A grunt soldier might visit here often enough, but an officer surely was a rarer sight.. in this aspect, they were two peas in a pod.

"How about I act like I know you so you don't get mugged?" he prodded at the male with unusual markings, adding a wry smirk to his sideways glance. Either the man's bodyguards were doing an excellent job at blending in with the tavern's patrons, or he wasn't cautious or quite wealthy enough to employ any. In a way, it was understandable - crime wasn't too common this close to the army's barracks. But too tempting of an opportunity can make a criminal out of many otherwise law-abiding citizens. "I'd hate to have any more work tonight, you see."

manip + code: clae