DRESDENBOMBS VEGLADON

Dresden had missed a bit of drama, he'd gathered. The dark tom had only made an appearance late last night, slipping into the Observatory with his escorts in a quiet, uneventful thing. He'd done the dutiful thing and ran a patrol, injuring himself along the way. He'd made some friends seeking assistance with that. As far as he was concerned, he was ticking all the boxes: joining, settling, participating, going about typical group living life. The cobwebs binding his paw tightly at the joint shifted against his skin in a smug reminder that it was working.

Next, of course, he was meant to be making slightly better friends than those quick interactions. He had enough options to choose from, he supposed, but he avoided the obvious — targeting the higher ups in their little social hierarchy first — and instead settled on the more subtle options. Those who were more needy, maybe. Those clinging to the edge of the social circle as was, looking for a life-line, a connection. He sniffed out the weak links that afternoon and went about befriending.

He supposed that this kid practically lay himself down at Dres' paws, slinking out of the Observatory with the dodgy look of dejected youth. It was only a bit after that he finally followed, casually wandering through the fields and winding slightly. No need to directly track the kid down. He came at it from an angle, drifting off path a bit first, and there was a moment where his wandering paused and his attention heightened on the stranger as if just seeing him. With a distant nod in greeting, he picked up the pace and started to walk with purpose towards the other male.

"Hello," he greeted, voice loosing a barely too smooth edge to it as he injected more warmth. Orange eyes flicked over this stranger briefly, curious but polite, not too intrusive. "What're you doing out here? Guess the weather is nice enough, but it's kind of... quiet." A sheepish smile, loading on the boyish charm. "Not that that's a bad thing. You know, if you're into quiet. Sorry, where are my manners? I'm Dresdenbombs, or Dres."

WE'RE JUST RESURRECTION MEN

[size=9pt]'I'm not here for the quiet.' "We don't got much of that, anyway."

Moon appears shortly after Gabriel, drawn in by nothing other than the paranoia that Gabe and Laz - being the brilliant, charming duo that they were - were back at it again. 'It' meaning leaving casual disaster in their wake whenever they were together. This was a thing he did, now; witnessing interactions from afar and instantly heading their way out of genuine fear that one of the many colorful personalities that called this place home was inevitably fucking some more shit up. With a poor, innocent newbie, no less. If you could call the weird guy with the sprained paw that.

"Feathers, Bambi," He greets, dipping his head to both in a show of feigned respect (that was clearly anything but) and offering a nod Dres' way as he sprawls out in a heap on the ground. A part of him feels awkward around the two, fumbling gracelessly with all the shit that was going on with both of them, paranoid on so many levels about so many things. If anything, that was the reason for the grab at humor he makes, almost trying to convince himself that things were still how they were. That easy back and forward without the bloodied eyes and shredded corpses.

"You know, Gabe," continues the lion, "I can see you're really taking your reclaimed rank seriously, and I appreciate both of your efforts to be more welcoming, okay, I do-- but sometimes I feel like there's a-- and tell me if this is just me, okay-- but it just feels like there's a, a-- I don't know," He layers the sarcasm on thick, motions uselessly at the air and pretends to look for the words, clearly milking this for all its worth. "A language barrier?"