A cigarette bud hit the floor, and was soon ground into the snow with the heel of a shoe. This shoe, black leather, soon lifted and the body that said-foot was attached to soon shifted in a slow, long-strided gait. The owner had his thumbs in his pockets, allowing the gold rings lining his index fingers to gleam as the light reflected off of the gold-laced surfaces. This teenager, for that is what this boy was, had fine taste, though you wouldn't be able to tell from the simple v-neck shirt that accompanied pants torn at the knees. Not a jacket was in sight, for he did not need it.
Heat already pulsed off of him; only a few hours earlier, his menu had consisted of a line of heroin, and the heat was only an after-effect. Already the boy had recovered his mind for the most part, what little brain cells there were. A hand was brought up from his pocket to brush a strand of hair that had fallen from its place back into position, a smirk lighting the baby-doll face he was so-well known for.
Bernard Maudezla was sentenced here by his older brother, the Oxford top student that made geniuses look low. Benjamin had /insisted/, to put it lightly, that perhaps a change in environment would supply a change in habits as well. But no, this stallion was not taking it. It was a small town, something he did not work well in; Bernard made waves too big to survive in a small pond like this, yet he would be stuck here if he wanted his brother's supply of cash.
Not only did he /want/ it, he /needed/ it.
His addictions were quite costly, and to pay for them there had to be someone on his side to assist with the limitless flow of cash leaving his pocket. Bernard's pocket was only so deep, hence why he needed Benjamin, and so had to come here to appease the little bugger.
The lean-muscled nineteen-year old shouldered his way through a door into a grocery store, though he doubted they would sell what he most needed now a days. Either way, a Monster would help, as well as to meet the local crowd. He couldn't possible stay here all this time without having a nibble of the local fish, now could he?
That thought was reinforced when he saw a girl standing more than a few feet away, speaking with a boy. A snake. A hiss was stifled in his maw when he noticed the other, the girl, was a tiger. The hiss quickly transformed into a low whistle.
"I guess small towns can have their advantages."Bernard's voice was quiet, yet loud enough that he knew she would hear. A tiger, after all, should have exemplary hearing, much like himself. Two big cats, wild as they came. The smirk played upwards at the ends at the thought of this new prey.
||Wrath||