as much as he avoided his actual job, lycaon wasn't one for laziness; being in one place too long, not moving, it bored him. he was restless, that was the truth of it; he wanted something to do that wasn't his boring old butcher job. he'd never liked the smell of blood, and if he spent too long in the butcher, his stomach would start to turn.

which is how he found himself here, sitting over a pile of paper, frowning as he attempted to fold the paper into the shape of a bird. it was no use though, truly; his paws were too meaty to hold something so delicate. maybe he should just go back to the butcher.