Closed to [tacticalvisor]

[chickenleggy]

Being on the street.... kind of sucks. Between avoiding dogs, avoiding cars, and trying to find enough food to not starve, he doesn't have much time or energy to think about anything else, like making his life any better.

Currently it is, of course, raining, and he's dragged a scrap of a trash bag over his head. Just enough to keep the rain off of his face as he peers out at the passing humans. The long coils of his body are still out in the rain, his tail tucked up beside him.

Once the rain passes he can go out scrounging - there's a cafe a few blocks away that will feed him if the young chinese woman working there is there. For now, he's left waiting. He's partially sheltered by a roof, but to leave where he is will mean going out into a chilly early spring downpour. Which will not be very great at all.

He lays his head down on his tiny paws and watches the world go by. His stomach is growling, the rain is ticklish where it's tracking down between blue scales, and his mane is sticking to his neck something fierce.

Comments

[tacticalvisor]

It's raining, he's just gotten himself kicked out of a bar for fighting, his head is sore and he's not nearly drunk enough. He can still stand, therefore, he can still drink. Jack stumbles forwards, grimacing as he uses the wall to support himself. God, he can already hear Angela scolding him, he wasn't supposed to go out tonight but it'd just become a little too much, he'd needed a drink. And one turned in to two turned in to three...

At least he wasn't foolish enough to drive. Then again, it wasn't as though he had a vehicle, he'd walked here and he could damn well walk...back...

After he sat down for a minute. Jack grabbed on to a bench as he moved past, leaning over it for a few moments before easing himself on to it - and easing his face in to his hands.

[chickenleggy]

He finds his attention drawn to a stumbling figure. Mostly because it's midafternoon. Or maybe it's getting towards evening, it's hard to tell, what with all the clouds. The rain's eased up, but the cafe isn't available today for scraps - instead of the Chinese woman, it was the woman who liked to swat a broom at him until he scampered away. So instead he's left hungry still.

The man stumbles past his hiding place, and the dragon recoils, snout wrinkling, as the scent of alcohol wafts to him. He watches the man go. He smells like blood and whiskey and regret. Also, like food.

The dragon waits for the man to stumble to a bench and then stop moving to creep out of his hiding place. Carefully, he paces closer, sniffing, hunting for food.

The man doesn't seem to notice him, so the dragon clambers onto the bench. He first tries the pockets of the man's jacket, one and then the other, reaching in with nimble paws.

Both pockets turn up peanuts and the dragon settles next to the man on the bench, nibbling slowly on each peanut in turn from the little pile. He curls like a cat, letting his tail hang over the edge of the bench, watching the man out of the corner of his eye. He's not a very small dragon, probably near 5 feet long, but a human is still a major threat. This one is drunk so he feels safe enough, but it's still worth paying attention to him.

[tacticalvisor]

The afternoon is still young. He can find another place to drink. Get his bearings back and stalk to another, drown himself in a couple more...

He gives a halfhearted swat at the movement to his jacket, trying to pat it back down. His wallet's in his inner pocket, anyway, he's not that far gone...and once the motion stops, so does he, exhaling heavily as the rain falls down. The bench has a little awning above it to serve as shelter, but it's not much, and some water trickles through from lack of repair. When one falls right on the back of his neck, he wrinkles his nose and straightens up, reaching back to rub at it

and it's then that he notices the...thing. Some...lizard thing. Sitting on the bench with him. Watching him. For a long moment he just stares...then he snorts, moving his glasses so he can rub at his face. Christ, so pathetic even animals weren't afraid of him. And, apparently, just drunk enough to see things.

His hearing, however, isn't impaired. And when he suddenly hears a shout that is undeniably of distress, his attention immediately snaps towards it. Not far, alleyway or two over...?

The area has low traffic with the weather, most people preferring to stay indoors. Working. Minding their own business. Jack grimaces as he pushes himself to his feet, gathering himself to approach and find out what's going on and-

"Hey! Knock it off!"

[chickenleggy]

Well. That's rather interesting. The dragon jumps when the man starts to move and is getting ready to leap to safety when he's stumbling to his feet and moving, suddenly urgent. The dragon flicks his ears, catches the sound of a conflict, and then--

He flinches from the shout, ears flicking back.

He doesn't get up though, as the man goes stumbling away towards the scuffling.

So he's a drunk, but a drunk with some moral compass. The dragon snaps up the last few peanuts then gets up to follow the man back out into the rain. He hangs back, pressing his sleek body - wet, again, he was just starting to dry off - against the building.

The dragon huffs quietly as the drunk - and he's not stumbling anymore - heads into the alley. He lays down and watches around the corner as the fight unfolds. Normally, he doesn't have much interest in humans aside from knowing which will hurt him and which will help him, but this one has him curious.

[tacticalvisor]

He's a drunk with some moral compass currently getting jeered at by a couple of young punks who are - thankfully - turning to leave their other prey alone. He's gone made himself a target, barking out a few inciting words just to make sure they keep their eyes on him, isn't he a better choice?

And then he moves.

It's probably the fact that he's had the alcohol that leads to them having even the slightest of chances; nonetheless, a knife goes sailing through the air, the wrist that was holding it now broken as the youth shrieks in pain. Only to be silenced when the palm of Jack's hand hits them in the face, knocking them to the ground.

The other one hurls themselves on him, trying to get an arm around Jack's neck- Jack follows through with the momentum, slips a little, and practically falls on them as opposed to just bringing them down.

Well, it still gets the job done. Just give him a moment to recover as the third thug tries to decide if they're going to press their own attack, or flee.

[chickenleggy]

The final thug decides to flee but the dragon, on his feet watching the fight, throws himself forward and, with gleeful accuracy, bites the young man's ankle - even thick denim isn't enough protection against his teeth - and throws the coils of his body around the leg.

The thug goes down with an ungraceful yell, but the dragon doesn't let up right away, instead worrying at the ankle he's got ahold of. When the kid finally lets out a pitiful cry of pain and there are honest tears on his cheeks, the dragon lets go, leaping clear of the kicking foot.

He hisses and puffs up, arching his back. His mane stands on end, whiskers bristling, and the kid runs, still sniffling and crying, abandoning his friends.

The dragon huffs, satisfied, and relaxes, sitting and starting to wash the blood off his face. The delicate pale blue scales around his mouth are pink with blood, but there's not all that much, so he soon turns to look up at the drunk. Quietly, the dragon chitters and gets back up. He looks up at the man, then at the two thugs still lying on the ground, and their victim.

The dragon shakes out his mane - uselessly, he's instantly wet again - then steps forward, pressing against the man's legs. Maybe he wasn't so bad. He could probably just use some help.

He winds a figure eight between the man's legs, then grabs on with his front paws and hauls his weight up before finally finding a perch on the man's shoulder. Chirring in his ear, he rubbed the side of his head against the man's, disturbing but not knocking off his glasses.

[tacticalvisor]

That settles that, then. And seeing that the thug he's on is still trying to get up- Jack rolls his eyes and, yes, he'll be a little more vicious than he needs to be when he grabs the man's head and slams it in to the ground.

Only once, though, because that seems to take a good deal of his energy. The man makes sure that the person they were threatening is gone- they seem to have fled- then hunches over, letting out a heavy breath. When he feels pressure at his legs he stiffens, turns, pulls back an arm ready to punch-

-wait, what?

He falls back on to his own ass as he leans back, using one arm to support him as the other half-comes up in surprise when the...thing...crawls up on top of him. It almost looks like some kind of...lizard? Snake-lizard? And it's...

"The hell you doing?" he mumbles, though not angrily. More confused. He's never seen anything like it before.

[chickenleggy]

The dragon purrs, pleased, as he's not immediately pushed at. The man doesn't try to pluck him off so he relaxes his grip with his claws and instead settles for coiling his tail around the man's arm, clinging tightly to him that way.

He settles down, tongue lapping at his cheek, tasting sweat. He's not injured by the fight, if maybe a bit out of breath.

You're mine, he seems to say with another pleased purr. The dragon isn't particularly heavy, maybe 20 pounds, but he's long and thin. He digs his back claws in a little, finding the shoulder seam of the jacket offered pretty good support. He's not intending to go anywhere fast.

[tacticalvisor]

No, really, what the hell. He's a little too surprised to shove at it, arm raised as the thing winds about him and- licks him. It's not a dog, not a cat, it's like someone took qualities of both, added a little - snake? ferret? lizard? - and then threw it on him and said, 'here, enjoy'.

Hesitantly, he sits up and slowly reaches for the thing. Not to remove, just to feel at it. Those are certainly scales, and...some other weird texture for a mane. A wiry body, long and thin...he still has no idea what it is, and no idea if it's male or female. Whatever it is, it certainly seems fond of him.

Can't figure out why, it's not exactly like he's a prime specimen right now. Jack sighs, then starts to push himself up, careful not to dislodge the thing. "You," he mutters, "need to work on your taste." Making it clear he knows what he is, thank you, a guy drunk before the sun's even gone down - rain or not.

[chickenleggy]

The dragon purrs again at the touch and arches into it like a cat. It's been a long time since he's been touched with anything close to resembling affection. He flicks the tip of his tail against the man's arm but is careful not to move as he gets up, not wanting to knock him off balance.

As far as his taste goes... the dragon is pretty sure he's made the right decision. A man far enough gone to be drunk in public in the early afternoon was not generally a man who would have gotten into a fight with a trio of street thugs to protect an innocent victim from being mugged or worse.

Besides, this close, pressed up against the man's neck, the dragon can practically taste the guilt and shame at his state, even through the exasperation and lingering adrenaline.

He nuzzles close to the man and bows his head so the ran doesn't roll into his eyes. It's a process, jamming his head under the man's collar, but he gets there.

[tacticalvisor]

Guilt, shame, exasperation, weariness, exhaustion, old regret, and a number of other things that are an emotional cocktail drive anyone to drink. They're a little lessened, now, but as much as those feelings remain...as Jack gathers his arm to his chest, still idly petting at the thing as he thinks, he realizes he can't go back to a bar. Not without...getting this thing off him, and it seems quite comfortable where it is. Rain or not...

He mutters a curse under his breath, movements slow as he unzips his jacket. "All right, enough cuddling. Get in here." It may be less awkward, too, walking around with the thing tucked in there as opposed to wrapped around his arm. He tries to encourage it in, gently working to unwind the few coils.

"May's well face the music sooner than later with Angie, too." Spoken more for his own benefit, a quiet, verbal reminder to himself that he's still in trouble even if he doesn't come back past midnight. "Ah, maybe she'll think you're cute or something."

Do him a solid, little guy(or gal), and distract the scary medstudent. This seems like an excellent idea and may even give him time to sleep off the alcohol and maybe, maybe be presentable tonight!

[chickenleggy]

Luckily, the dragon would much rather be inside the shelter of the man's leather jacket than out in the rain.

He stands - carefully, so he doesn't fall - on the man's shoulders, shakes as much water off his body as he can, then dives down into the jacket. He instantly grabs on - front paws gripping his shirt near his shoulder, hind I the waistband of his pants, and he tucks his tail around his waist for good measure.

Purring, he relaxes his head, sticking his nose out just far enough to be able to breathe and also not drown in the rain. If the man even went so far as to support the dragon with his arm, sleep would probably be possible. It's warm inside the jacket, and he can tell the man's body is hardly destroyed by drink. He made the right choice.

[tacticalvisor]

The thing gets the gist of his words, apparently, and wow those are some sharp claws. Without the jacket to serve as a buffer, they can easily pierce through the shirt underneath. The scratches aren't too distracting, but they're still present, and he shifts the weight a little to get himself more comfortable. A final, somewhere between wry and baffled pat to the creature's head, and he's wandering off to leave the two fallen thugs where they lie.

They can get themselves to a doctor. If they even think about it.

Pulling up his jacket collar, he keeps hold on his newfound 'friend' as he heads for home. Sometimes it doesn't feel like it, but the way things have gone he can't...quite...support himself, and when Angela and Fareeha opened their doors to him, it seemed like he was swallowing a great deal of pride to accept. Especially since they're nowhere near well off, themselves; both still in school, Fareeha's mother the only real way he met them, possibly this only happened because she wanted to keep an eye on him. Still, it's a roof over his head, and he's walked this route enough times that he could probably do it with his eyes closed. Having alcohol make him a little more fighty, a little more off-balance? That only slows him so much.

Besides, he can't fight anymore, he's got a lizardsnakecatthing in his jacket that may or may not be falling asleep.

He pulls out his key, opens the door, and tries to slip in unnoticed. Are they at class?...he can't remember, but he locks the door anyway, then quietly heads for his room.

[chickenleggy]

It's too bad for Jack's plan to quietly slip into his room that not only are both Angela and Fareeha home, but Angela's waiting for him in the doorway to their bedroom. "You're back early," she says, and there isn't anything like disappointment in her tone. In fact, her tone is rather flat.

She folds her arms over her chest and straightens. "Did you get in a fight again? Are you drunk? Jack..." Angela sighs and shakes her head just a little.

"He's drunk?" That's Fareeha, though she doesn't come to the door.

Inside his jacket - Jack's jacket apparently - the dragon is stirring. He'd dozed off on the walk over, but the sound of voices woke him up again. He squirms, finally unhooking his claws from Jack's shirt, and makes a bid to stick his head back out the open collar of his jacket.

[tacticalvisor]

Aw, dammit. Jack hunches his shoulders ruefully, that flat tone almost worse than disappointment. It means she may even be a little angry...

"Only a little," he wheedles, trying to make light of it all. "I stopped." Once he got kicked out. Look, he learned moderation. Or...didn't. But how that he feels the little guy stirring...he opens his jacket a bit, enough to reveal what he's carrying while still supporting its weight. "Hey, either of you ever seen one of these before...?"

Hopefully he hadn't done a bad thing by bringing it home, but what was he supposed to do? Thing's practically adopted him. Does this place even allow pets? It's starting to hit him just what he's set himself up for, and maybe he should take it to a shelter...

[chickenleggy]

Angela sighs, but then goes still when Jack opens his jacket to reveal the coiled blue form within. The dragon blinks in the bright light then turns, pushing his nose into Jack's neck, almost shyly. "Where did you get that?" Any anger she might have expressed at Jack's daytime drinking and fighting is gone.

Fareeha gets up now, though, and she peers over Angela's shoulder, one arm going around her middle.

The dragon yawns then pulls himself up a little before dropping back down into Jack's arm, tucking his tail more comfortably around himself. "It's a dragon," Fareeha says. "Did you steal it?" Her tone is practical, though her accent makes her words sound rather clipped.

"Look how skinny it is, Fareeha," Angela says, and goes soft. She reaches out to pet the dragon and he allows it. Her fingers are cool but gentle, rubbing into the short fuzz on top of his head, right before the mane proper starts. He purrs and closes his eyes.

"A stray dragon?" Fareeha's eyebrows go up and she shakes her head in disbelief. "You shouldn't touch it, it's probably covered in fleas." The implication that while it's not okay for Angie to touch a possibly flea-infested dragon, it's perfectly alright for Jack to do so.

[tacticalvisor]

"Found it while fiiii-" shit, abort, abort message. "-iiinding my way home." And now that it's named, he's thinking back to what he remembers about dragons. Not much - pets for the rich and spoiled, designer creatures, supposed to be as intelligent as a human themselves. "You really think I'm a fuckin' thief, Fareeha?"

All right, maybe that came out a little more harshly than Fareeha deserved, but- he couldn't help it, his skin was prickling at the implication. He could have taken the thugs' wallets, searched them for goods, and maybe, maybe he'd done it in the past. He still wouldn't take someone's pet, because that was just low. Jack tightens his grip on the thing, as if using it to try and hold back that lingering drunken anger. When he was really gone, it was a fight all on its own to not take it out on either of them...

There were still lines he wouldn't cross. He was more likely to stalk off and punch a wall, which'd just lead to him having to have his hand looked at, which'd just lead to more frustration on Angela's side because medstudent or not, she wasn't supposed to be taking care of him like that.

"What do they eat, anyway? I can feel the bones." It feels far lighter than it should be, for its size. And distantly, he remembers seeing it munch on some...peanuts? Didn't he have a couple of those in his pockets?

[chickenleggy]

Fareeha sighs, "If anybody owned it, then they deserved to have it taken from them." The dragon is leaning into Angela's touch, only Jack's hands on him keeping him from falling to the floor. He's purring, tail flicking against Jack's thigh.

"Well. I suppose we have to keep it," Angela said. "It probably escaped its owner because it didn't like them, but it obviously likes you." She stops rubbing his forehead and the dragon lifts his head. He turns and clings tighter to Jack, making it clear that yes, he liked Jack, yes he wanted to be here. Angela looks back at Fareeha. "I don't know what they eat, do you?"

"No, but we can probably look it up." She shrugs and heads back into the bedroom. She returns with her phone, tapping at it quietly.

"Well, there's something called Dragon Chow," she says, and her nose wrinkles. The dragon mimics the reaction, hissing quietly, upper lip curling just a little. "I don't know why you would buy a dragon and then just... feed it kibble." She shakes her head. "But it looks like they're mostly carnivores, but they will eat vegetables and things if they want to."

"You should probably take it to a vet," Angela says. "Who knows if it's got any diseases or anything from living out on the street. And the vet should know more about it." The dragon grumbles at that, unimpressed with the idea, but lets Angela run her hand down his back anyways. "And... I guess we'll have to see how it gets along with Winston." She glances back into the bedroom at the lump of black cat curled up on the bed.

[tacticalvisor]

"Hnh." It pacifies him, lets him relax just a little. "Still can't figure out why, other than maybe it smelled you two." Yes, yes, he has no problems admitting who runs the place, and he gives the dragon a bit of attention of his own while Fareeha does her research. He only keeps a cheap phone, himself, the least money could buy - mainly because he's broken the things more than once, getting in to his fights. There's no point in getting something more expensive if it wasn't going to last.

The idea of feeding the thing kibble makes him snort. He's got a better idea. "We still have that leftover chinese?" It seems oddly appropriate, all things considered, does he remember these things coming from way out east?...

Who knows. Who cares. He's already moving back for the kitchen, planning on feeding it out of his share of the food as he tries to coax it out of his jacket. Actually, he can take the jacket off, and awkwardly fold it to create a place for it to rest without scratching at the table. Sure, it's wet, but...they know he'll clean up, right? The food should help him sober up, too, even if the alcohol's already been absorbed in to his bloodstream. It'll make him feel better, anyway.

"I'll take him tomorrow." It feels like a 'him', stupid as that is to think, and if he's wrong, well, the vet'll tell him. "They're probably all full up for the day, and if Winston objects we'll find out by then."

...he hopes not.

[chickenleggy]

The dragon allows himself to finally be pulled off of Jack completely, and the jacket makes a decent enough place to rest, so he curls up in the bundle of leather and fabric lining, tucking himself into a neat ball.

Angela and Fareeha both follow him out into the kitchen - Angela mostly to supervise, but Fareeha's still doing research. "There's only one place in the city that sees dragons. I'll call and set up an appointment." She sits at the counter next to the dragon and dials. "Yes, hello. I need to set up an appointment for a dragon... No, it's a new patient. Yes. As soon as possible, please."

She raps her fingers on the counter while she waits. "Do you have anything for tomorrow? Well... my roommate found it. And it's pretty thin..." The dragon is watching her carefully. Fareeha sits up a bit more, then moves the phone. "What's its name?" She asks Jack.

Angela leans against the counter and watches Jack with the chinese food, looking like she's about ready to just take it from him and do it herself.

[tacticalvisor]

"Thanks," Jack says distractedly, more interested in pulling out the box and grabbing a plate for it. He can't speak for the dragon's preferences, but he likes his food hot, and after scooping out a portion he quickly heats it up before moving back to the table. "And- I don't know, I told you, I just found it." Is he supposed to have a name made up already? Hell, he's not even a hundred percent certain he's keeping it.

...Can he call it 'Trogdor'?

The plate is set down by the jacket, a chair pulled up for him to sit down. Then he pauses, mutters something, and goes to get a fork.

[chickenleggy]

Fareeha frowns at Jack then finally says, eyeing the dragon's blue scales. "I guess Blue... Morrison. The owner's name is Jack. Great, thank you. Tomorrow at 2."

She hangs up the phone. "You and Blue have an appointment at 2 tomorrow."

She makes no move to intervene when, after Jack sets down the plate, Blue sits up then his neck snakes out to eat right off the plate.

The dragon makes a good dent in the plate before Jack gets back, but he doesn't immediately stop and instead puts his foot on the plate and tips it.

Angela smiles. "He's hungry but I don't think he should eat all that." She reaches out to pull the plate away. The dragon huffs but allows her to pull it away. He settles back down in the jacket licking his lips.

[tacticalvisor]

"It's not Blue." A beat. "I mean, he is, but..." that's a dumb name, he didn't say. "I'll think of something, but that's not it."

...that little thing could eat quickly. By the time Jack gets back to his seat, his brow is arched in amazement. The guy was hungry. He'll take his plate now, thank you, and take his turn at taking some of it down.

Though, he looks from Angela to Fareeha, the deep lines of thought returning to his forehead. "Does this place even allow pets? What's the deposit?"

So much for not being certain on keeping it. It's just- he's curious, all right? He's allowed to be. The actually-not-so-little-guy is interesting to watch, and Jack's obviously never been around one before.

[chickenleggy]

"I don't know if dragons are allowed, but it's not like he's a big dog." Fareeha frowns. She watches the dragon settle down to watch Jack eat, still licking his lips.

Angela sighs and goes to the cabinets. She comes back a few minutes later with a can of tuna. "This is better for you than Chinese. Eat it slowly." The dragon blinks then slowly moves, lapping at the tuna. He chews rather noisily, trying to pace himself, but it's hard. He's hungry, starving, but knows he should not gobble it down to make himself sick.

"I'll talk to the super."

"I'll go buy some flea shampoo," Angela says. "Don't feed it any more for a while, he should digest some first."

[tacticalvisor]

"Well, he's bigger than Winston." Of course it allows pets, Winston is a pet. He really needs to sober up if he's going to think more on this. Stop being slow, Jack, his head's supposed to work better than this. Sure, it's got the alcohol muddled in, but that's no excuse.

He's more interested in watching the dragon eat than taking much of his own, chewing slowly as he observes the guy eat. When was the last time the thing filled its belly?

At least, through all the shit he's gone through, he's never really had to worry about going hungry. He's lucky in that regard and he knows it, just hasn't really...thought about it until now...

"Yeah, yeah. You want my wallet?"

[chickenleggy]

"It's alright." Angela smiles. "I'll be back in a few." She drops a kiss on Jack's forehead, one on her girlfriend's lips, then is heading for the door, plucking up her keys from the bowl beside it.

Fareeha sighs and watches the dragon the same as Jack. Then she gets up. She's back a few moments later with a bowl and a glass of water. She sets the bowl down next to the tuna and gives the glass to Jack. "Drink this. I have work to get back to."

The dragon - Blue, apparently - watches her go. The tuna is good, and he's starving. Still, he makes himself pause to drink water - It's clear and fresh and tasty and he drinks glad the bowl before pausing to take a breath. Jack is an interesting man - as are the two women, Angela and Fareeha. This place is small, but it's well lived-in. He can see several good hiding places from here.

[tacticalvisor]

He's used to affection from Angela, but it still makes him half-raise a hand to not-quite swat her away. Not nearly quickly enough to actually do it, and even if it was, it's not nearly with enough force. Worse case scenario it'd be a little pat, but as it is- he just ends up lowering his hand to the water. "Yeah, yeah. Don't worry, I'm done for the day."

No more going out for him. He drinks the water, finishes most of the leftovers, and gets up to clean it all up. If the dragon whose name is distinctly not Blue has any left, he'll put that away for later, too; too much time in rougher territory to throw away perfectly good food.

"All right- so. You ready for a look around?"

Why is he talking to it? It's not sentient. (He doesn't think.)

[chickenleggy]

Blue is busy licking out the last of the tuna oil and fish from the inside of the can as Jack is picking up his own mess. He lets the empty can be taken without a fuss, though and sighs. His belly is full for the first time in what feels like forever, and he's about to curl up to sleep when Jack talks - to him, directly.

He lifts his head, then stands. Shaking out his mane, he blinks tiredly then reaches out to grab for Jack. He hauls himself up onto the man's shoulders with a lazy sort of grace and curls up with his head on his paws, tail tucked securely again around Jack's upper arm for support. His shoulders are perfectly broad enough for Blue to lay on them securely. Wide enough for his length, and also deep enough that he can mostly relax and not have to struggle to hold on. He chuffs into Jack's ear as if to say Let's go.

[tacticalvisor]

Trash, dishes, and- dragon. He's going to have to get used to it. Thankfully the creature's not too heavy, and automatically helps to balance his weight.

So- a degree of intelligence, sentience up in the air. Used to humans. Trained? Is he going to need a litter box. All of these go through Jack's mind as he moves through the house, keeping most commentary under his breath. One-sided conversations are not always his forte, unless it's at the TV and there's a game on. (To be fair, that's mostly a one-sided yelling.)

He avoids Pharah's and Angela's room, considering it off-limits. The tour is otherwise brief, and his, room, well...

...it's a bit of a mess. He kicks some clothing aside to make space on the floor, ignoring the quiet TV he'd put on to make it appear he'd been home. As opposed to...out.

The noise helps him sleep, anyway.

[chickenleggy]

Blue looks around the rooms as Jack walks through them, his quiet voice soothing enough despite the gravel to have Blue nodding off despite his wishes to stay otherwise.

But when Jack heads into another room that is so obviously his... Blue lifts his head. Unlike the common areas, this room is soaked in Jack's scent. He doesn't much care that it's messy, and instead stands and leaps to the bed, gracefully springing from shoulder to blankets. He chuffs again as he smells the blankets. The mattress is broken in under his paws, so he flops down in the center, the mattress firm around him.

He blinks up at Jack, then sighs, closes his eyes, and drifts to sleep without much more hesitation.

[tacticalvisor]

Apparently, the noise helps the dragon sleep, too. Alternatively; dragons are also victims of the dreaded state known as 'food coma'. Jack chuckles once, running his hand lightly down 'Blue's' back, then starts to settle himself in. Jacket off, TV glanced at to see if there's anything on - doesn't seem interesting, just the news, something about a robotics factory - and he reaches for his tablet as he lies down on the bed.

Right, so - his own research about dragons. Fairly intelligent, ferociously loyal (now just where had this guy come from?), and usually only the pets of the rich and famous. He whistles softly when he sees some of the setups with them, wondering just how deep the hole he's found himself in, is. He starts broadening his searches, finding a few interesting myths and legends about them, and easily loses himself in the stories.

Looks like there were even a couple generals who had them, way back in time. He doesn't feel so bad, anymore, not being rich enough to own the entire complex. The paintings are interesting, too, one having man and dragon so intertwined they look like they're one and the same creature.

[chickenleggy]

Blue stirs after a while of sleeping. He stretches and blinks, then lifts his head. Looking around, he crawls to Jack, letting his body stretch out as he does, and curls back up with his head on Jack's thigh.

It's impossible to deny that this wasn't the right choice. Jack is warm and present, his breathing deep and steady. Slowly, he crawls up again, then all the way into Jack's lap. He sighs and blinks up at Jack, resting his head on Jack's chest, the sprawl of his body limp and boneless. Blue sighs again, utterly at peace.

He doesn't stir even when the door opens again. "I'm back," Angela calls, swinging the door shut behind her. She was carrying a single bag, but inside was more than just flea shampoo. "Jack?" She's in the doorway a minute later, and stops, hands on either side of the doorframe. Jack, sprawled on the bed with his tablet in hand, the sleeping blue dragon across his lap. "He must be feeling better." She nods to the dragon.

[tacticalvisor]

The stirring dragon gets a glance. Then observation, as he - Jack's pretty sure it's a 'he', now, based on the look of him and what he's researched - crawls on over. And while Jack is a little hesitant at first, he lowers his hand to stroke at the guy's scales, taking in the feel of them.

He only looks back up when the door opens, hand going a little tight. He doesn't do very well with being startled, but it's a small enough surprise that he doesn't spook too badly. And by the time Angela's in the doorway, there's no tension to behold; he seems easy enough. "Full belly can do that to you," he confirms, arching his brow with a little frown. "How much did you get there?"

Sure, she said not to worry about it, but- he has an allowance. He's never liked others taking care of him. Or, apparently, his pets...

[chickenleggy]

"Not much," she says, stepping into Jack's room. Blue comes awake as soon as she steps in, but he's blinking slowly and barely turning to look at her, so he's not obviously distressed by her presence. Instead, he looks content, like a cat stirred from a lazy afternoon nap. He's so skinny she can see his ribs even through the scales, and the scales themselves are a bit dull - some are even missing, mostly around his sides like he'd been scraping them off against something - but he's a beautiful blue color anyways, dusky along his back with an almost electric blue belly and ivory legs that are scuffed up with mud.

"Just enough so you can take him into a pet store to get more things." She opens the bag to show Jack: flea shampoo, a cat harness, and a leash.

Blue, who's really not paying all that much attention since Jack's still petting him, lets out a quiet, satisfied groan, and closes his eyes again.

[tacticalvisor]

Disturbed or not, the dragon earns another slow stroke down his scales for his motions. As though Jack's trying to calm him down, even with it not being in the least bit required. It's interesting, having something that gains his attention like this, and the lingering rainfall outside makes it quite peaceful.

Though, as much as he would like to sit up, he's got the thing nestled quite securely on him. Jack gives it a wry look, then looks back up. Shampoo looks easy enough, and the leash, and-"-is that a harness?" he asks skeptically, though it makes sense once he's said it. 'Blue' isn't quite large enough to where a collar will be anything but frustrating for the both of them.

[chickenleggy]

The word "harness" definitely wakes Blue up. He blinks and lifts his head, startled. Angela smiles down at him, but it's definitely the devious smile of a woman who's soon going to be attempting to wrestle him into a harness.

He looks up at Jack then whines. It's a purposefully needy, unhappy sound, and he presses his nose into Jack's chest, wriggling against his touch. If Angela's the bad guy with the harness, then Jack's going to save him, right? He whines again, scrabbling up to shove his muzzle and whiskers into the crook of Jack's neck.

[tacticalvisor]

Uh oh. Jack automatically shifts his grip on the dragon, supporting the weight as the thing clambers on to hide against him. It's pretty clear what he's so upset about, and Jack can't really blame him. He forces a smile of his own towards Angela as he tries to unwrap his new friend and cradle him against his chest because those whiskers are a little ticklish.

"I can just keep him in my jacket." Yes. This is an excellent plan. "I mean, it's not like he's really that heavy."

...he may still be slightly tipsy. Look, he can handle his liquor pretty well, but when you drink enough to get kicked out of a bar when there's still light out you're going to feel the effects for a while. At least he has enough presence of mind to divert-

"-I, uh, thought of some names?" Because he's still not calling the guy Blue.

[chickenleggy]

Blue lets Jack uncurl him, but stays pressed close against his chest. He turns his head and rests it on Jack's collarbone. He stares at Angela, whiskers twitching, but feeling rather smug. Jack's got his arm under his back, supporting him, and he doesn't have to wear the harness, so it's all alright to him. A bath sounds good, too. Warm water, even if it came with being shampooed, was going to be nice, after so long just out in the rain and the wind.

Angela sighs. The dragon looks unbearably smug, curled up on Jack's chest. The dragon is a manipulator, and already has Jack wrapped around its little claws. "Oh yeah?" She looks up at Jack. He's still a bit drunk, but looks better than he did when he first came home - his reactions seem faster. "What names?" She sits on the edge of the bed, setting the bag down on the floor, then reaches out to touch the dragon. He stares at her suspiciously, but allows her to pet his side. The scales under her fingers feel a bit waxy and soft. She's pretty sure they're not supposed to be like that. If she had to guess, she would say it was from malnutrition, but it's impossible to discount a possible disease of some kind.

"You'll have to talk to the vet tomorrow about his scales. They definitely don't look right, I'm pretty sure they're not supposed to be soft." Blue leaned forward to sniff her fingers as she touched him, then reached out and grabbed her fingers with his little paws. He pulled her hand towards him then licked. She tasted like lotion, mostly. "Let's get him washed, then you can head to the pet store and buy him somewhere to sleep that's not your dirty bed."

[tacticalvisor]

"Yeah. Take a look." The tablet is proffered, pages still open to the old stories and tales about fighting side by side. You can take the man out of the fight...

A couple hours later, Jack and 'Hanzo', as Jack seems to have decided on, are on their way to the pet store. Jack with a new set of scratches due to his adventure with the whole bath thing, and a different jacket which he's using to carry the dragon since trying to get him in to the harness had been...interesting. So, loose clothing, long sleeves to cover his scratches, a somewhat more grumpy mood than he had before-

What's wrong with my bed?

-and he's ducking inside. It's not too crowded, which is always a good thing; he hates crowds, even in bars. Avoiding the saleshelp's gaze and greeting, he resolves to find what he needs on his own, one arm tucked around his chest to support the weight wrapped around him as he hunts for the 'dragon' section.

...if they even have one.

[chickenleggy]

Hanzo was a much better name. Still, it didn't quite make up for the spray of the showerhead and being wrestled into the harness afterwards. He'd wanted a soaking and instead of gotten rained on - warm water or not, it might as well have been rain.

Still, he allowed Jack to carry him anyways - shredding the leash had helped his mood a little, but the harness had defeated him... for now. The harness had managed to withstand his teeth, but only because he couldn't get a good angle on the fabric. Hanzo sighed and closed his eyes, turning his head to rest his forehead against Jack's throat. The fight in the tub had worn him out, but Angela had fed him another can of tuna after the duel with the leash, so once he woke up and was more active, he might even have been able to help Jack shop.

By the time they stepped into the pet store, Hanzo was awake and relaxed into the crook of Jack's arm. His front paws are braced on Jack's shoulder and he's looking around curiously. He huffs into Jack's face, exhaling a fishy sigh directly into his mouth and nose, then turns more. He wasn't sure what Angela thought they needed from here. She's already forced him into the harness, and tuna was good to eat, and he could sleep on Jack's bed.

But that bed on the wall looked comfortable. He chirrs into Jack's ear and leans forward, whiskers twitching. It's the same electric blue as his belly, and is big and fluffy - more than large enough to fit him, with plenty of spare. He leans out, trusting Jack to support him, and reaches with his paw towards the bed, hoping Jack will understand.

He doesn't need a bed in Jack's room, but maybe in the living room would be nice? Some place to watch from, or relax.

[tacticalvisor]

He'd tried to make it as comfortable as possible, all right...?

Jack wrinkles his nose at the smell, raising a hand to wave it away. Not that he doesn't like tuna, but having it concentrated at his face? "Look, I want to head back too, all right?" At least there's not many people, he keeps telling himself. Someone with a dog, someone with their kid talking about ferrets, and-

-he can get the hint. Especially when he's juggling an armful of dragon, blinking in surprise. All right, well - that makes things easy. "That one, huh?" he can't help but ask, reaching to take a look at it...and the price tag.

Well, that sure is an expression. "What the hell is this made out of, gold?"

[chickenleggy]

Hanzo whines and reaches out for it. They're standing close enough that he can reach out and grab ahold of it. He looks from Jack to the bed and back, hoping Jack will say yes, he can have the bed.

"Is there anything I can help you with over here?" It was one of the employees. Hanzo jumped, startled, and let go of the bed to instead cling to Jack again. He stares at the worker, and lets out a little nice into Jack's face: a sigh, and almost exasperated if a dragon could be or sound exasperated. "Oh, is that a dragon? I've never seen one before."

Hanzo puffs up, both pleased at the attention and unhappy that his time shopping with Jack was being interrupted.

[tacticalvisor]

Jack starts a bit as well, surprised even if he knows he shouldn't be. It's a good thing that Hanzo lets go, because he's turning to face the employees, arms automatically moving up to steady the creature on his chest.

"Ah- yeah. It is." Just someone doing their job, but some habits die so very hard. "You, ah, got some kind of dragon section, or will these-" he gestures towards the beds, "work fine for 'em?"

Please let there be a dragon section. Please let the stuff be cheaper, or at least seem more durable. Hanzo's claws seem like they could shred through that bed in a week.

[chickenleggy]

"Uh... We really don't... I think most people who have dragons don't shop here anyways... I know there's a place across town that might sell stuff for dragons..." The young man hesitates. "I mean, these should be fine. We have stuff for reptiles, but I think anything we have for ferrets would be too small." He squints at Hanzo, who stares back at him uncertainly.

Finally, Hanzo leans out to sniff the employee curiously. His whiskers twitch as he leans out, but not terribly far: just enough to have the man reaching out in turn, a rather wondrous expression on his face. Hanzo snuffles at his outstretched hand, then pulls himself back to curl against Jack again. He lays his head on Jack's shoulder and watches the employee.

"We do have some tougher canvas ones. They're not as soft, and they're a bit harder, but... those are some really wicked claws." Hanzo huffs, body curling in pleasure at what he takes as a compliment.

[tacticalvisor]

It's an odd surge of possession that Jack feels as the employee reaches out and Hanzo leans out in turn. He suppresses it with only a nod, managing to hide the satisfaction when his the dragon moves back to rest against him. he thinks. Probably. Stupid feeling, anyway, he just met the thing yesterday. "Maybe the canvas ones, yeah. I guess I can throw a blanket or something on it if it's too rough for him," he adds, glancing down at Hanzo as he makes to follow the employee.

By now, though, there's a couple others who have noticed the exotic pet - a young girl gasping down an aisle with a Mommy, Mommy! Jack adjusts Hanzo's weight once more, hoping that the creature will be happy with a more durable bed and pick one quickly.

[chickenleggy]

Hanzo whines as they move away from the pretty, bright blue bed and towards plain brown ones. He cries unhappily into Jack's neck, twisting to watch the bed as they walk away from it.

He's so distracted by the bed that he doesn't pay much attention to the change in Jack's scent or body language, the tightening of the grip around his lower body. He reaches up with his paws to grab a pawful of the hair at the side of Jack's head as he leverages himself up to look back better.

The employee pauses at the area with the heavier canvas beds. They were indeed cheaper than the other beds - much cheaper than the blue one especially, but Hanzo still only had eyes for that one - and the little girl dragging her mother along behind her. He glances between her and the blue bed, then up at Jack.

He registers Jack's tension and then the change in his smell almost at the same moment. He blinks at Jack, taking his attention off of the little girl - then nuzzles into Jack with a small, questioning noise.

[tacticalvisor]

Hanzo's cries - in addition to being rather pitiful - have the unfortunate side effect of attracting even more attention. There's a subtle tension underneath Jack's skin, suppressed out of habit but building bit by bit as he feels more eyes on him. Back when he came home after - everything - he was hailed as a local celebrity, something that quickly turned out to be more aggravating than anything else. While he's come a long way since feeling suffocated by that sort of attention, he still hates it (needs a couple drinks to be able to remotely deal with it, already he's craving one) and is having an unfortunate sensation of deja vu.

Swallow it down. Jack ignores it - and Hanzo, aside from adjusting to accommodate for the shift in weight, the noise doesn't get much if any of a response - and reaches to take one of the begs. Actually take, not caring about the pricetag. He'll get Hanzo a flannel blanket or something, whatever can take the claws. "This'll work for now. I need-" Shit, what else had Angela brought up? "-a rope toy or something. Whatever can take some abuse."

Is that a dragon? someone asks from off to the side, voice hushed. Jack hears it nonetheless, registers it's directed to their friend as opposed to him, but can't dismiss the additional person on his internal radar.

[chickenleggy]

The employee - who seems to notice Jack's tension at about the same time that Hanzo does - nods. "Yeah. Probably something for dogs... We have a whole aisle, there's a lot of choice." He turns to lead the way, sidestepping the few gawkers while looking uncomfortable at the idea of confronting them.

Hanzo stares at Jack, unsure also of what to do, then leans forward again. He jabs his nose into Jack's ear and snuffles, claws grabbing to Jack's shirt tightly. He makes another noise - louder than before, trying to draw Jack's attention.