by foxes800 » Wed May 21, 2014 4:24 pm
((Okay good. Just had to make sure. :3
And is this enough for you to easily reply to? I know I got kind of carried away and rambled on about that movie place for too long. xP))
Luka Everett Ryals ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
-----Shocker. The parking lot outside the mustard-yellow, shabby, shack of a building was completely void of cars (well, except for his and one employee’s). Netflix sure had done a number on movie rentals, effectively annihilating the need for a place like this. And yet, here he was, staring up at the peeling paint above the glass door. Far more beat up than he remembered. Of course, his family had taken up the new trend as well and hadn’t come here since. (Let’s just say that eight werewolves under one roof, fighting for a remote, did not usually end well.) Luka was about to text the boy to ask if he also had Netflix, but another message quickly buzzed in. ‘I’m sick.’ Quinn. Sick. That was enough to make him get his butt in gear, and he was in and out of the rental place in a flash. ‘I’ll be right there.’ Surely, his friend knew that his illness wouldn’t deter him, right?... Oh well. He’d cross that bridge when he came to it.
-----The drive from the ugly building to the Miles’ home took less than five minutes, and soon enough the werewolf had unlocked the front door and barged inside. The first thing that greeted him was the scent of vomit, the strong smell making his sensitive nose burn. Yep. Definitely a downside to being half mangy-mutt. “Hey Quinnely!” He called up the stairs, announcing his presence as he headed off to the kitchen and hall closet to grab supplies. Hm. Let’s see... Movies? Check. Ice pack? Check. Extra blankets? Guess I should get ‘em too.
-----After Luka’d found and snatched up everything his friend could possibly need for a fever, or the flu, he finally hauled the load to the small, white space containing the sick teen. Because, of course, his parents didn’t give a damn whether their son felt like he was dying, and they had obviously left the home before even trying to help out. “Wow, man. You look horrible. Like something the cat dragged in.” And that was an understatement. The sight was actually quite startling. There were dark rings under those usually bright, sea-green hues. His face was a ghostly shade of white and his chest was bare, shirt discarded off to the side and covers surrounding him from all sides. “Wow.” He repeated, approaching the bed and beginning to fuss over his best pal. “Now, here’s an ice pack and some extra covers, if you need ‘em. Not sure how you’re feeling right now, hot flashy or chilly. I’ll just put them next to ya... Want me to get a trashcan and place it alongside the bed while I’m at it? That way you don’t have to keep getting up?” It was almost comical the way the werewolf could switch from the alpha of the school, the tough guy, to a mother hen, worrying over Quinn. Guess he’d always been that way, though. The kidnapping incident. When his friend had fallen from that branch and had gotten a couple scratches. And in multiple other incidents when they were just little squirts.
Hello, I'm foxes. c: I have way too many otps, watch far too much anime, and obsess over roleplays and video games an obnoxious amount.
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