The November sun was harsh and beating, striking his form with its rays and penetrating his dark pelt. At this point, he might as well get a damn sunburn from all of this exposure. This had to be the hottest place that Bugsy had ever traveled to. Was he stupid for trying to make it to the border? Probably, but Bugsy was the very definition of reckless and, frankly, idiocy. He'd do just about anything if it meant that he'd prove himself to the rest of the world.

The Beauceron held the faint scent of the Rosebloods, but it wasn't strong enough to notice from a distance. He had stayed there for a week or so, but when things began to go take a nosedive, then he dipped out of there as soon as he could. And where else to turn to but the apparent baddest group around? Bugsy was confident that he could walk into the place within five minutes. Perhaps they'd be glad to accept a strong and loyal fella like him.

Placing his paws upon an apparent borderline, he lifted his muzzle to the wind as it tugged on his short, black pelt. The air felt nice on his neck after what seemed like hours of traveling this far through the arid lands. Then, he opened his mouth, "HEY! Anybody out there?" Bugsy wasn't going to wait around until he [sub]dropped dead.[/sub] He needed to get their attention somehow. "I swear, you guys are tryin' ta' make me roast like a Thanksgiving turkey." He panted, his floppy tongue lolling out of his maw as he tried to cool down his body in the baking heat. Hoooh, hopefully they had an olympic-sized swimming pool that he could dive into.

Following the small cat's appearance was the stench of liquor. Oh, how he'd love to get his paws on a bottle. Anywho, he had to deal with this chick first. "Hey, what's up wit' all the tails?" Questioned the east-coaster, cocking his head at the five as they swished about. They were pretty cool-looking, but why did she need so many? Maybe it was something that she had been born with. That reminded him of the own cat tail that was dangling from his chain necklace, and he adjusted it so that it was laying across his neck instead of distracting him.

"I heard you guys are the toughest of the tough. It only makes sense for me to join ya'." He shot a toothy grin towards the medic, pointed ears erect as he awaited a response from her. Bugsy was a pretty scrappy son of a bitch, that was for sure. Perhaps he'd prove to be a useful addition to the ranks.

Why was he so ugly? Bugsy nearly scoffed at the retort. How dare she speak to him like that, knowing full well that he was one of the most ( if not, the ) handsomest son of a bitch in the land? Of course he chose to sass her right back. "I could ask the same about you." This wasn't to say that she was, but Bugsy didn't simply take shit. That wasn't what he did. Had this been some punk and not a Pittian, he would've given her an earful ( and possibly a threat ). No, he had to suppress himself for once and deliver a comeback that was less-than-fulfilling.

Anyways, moving on to formalities, the Beauceron lifted a hind leg to itch his stomach. "Name's Bugsy, don't wear it out." Was that it? Was he in, now? Holy hell, that had been stupidly easy. Nevertheless, he was sure excited.