[ SAY YOU WON'T LET GO | O. JOINING ]

[WANDERER]

[align=center][div style="width: 500px; text-align: justify; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 1.4;"]Terrible was quite possibly the more mild term flinging around Courier's head at the moment. Overall, he could count as unimpressed, with fleeting pieces of irritation, confusion, and concern flitting around in his head like dragonflies. He tries to catch the ones that strike him as memory, but they slip away from his mind too quickly. The first one he manages to catch when he lays eyes on Malphas is once again terrible, but more with the connotations of "disgusting", not "frightening". For a reason he can't quite grasp, much less explain, the canine finds himself pretty far from terrified, at least as someone who was just greeted by a demon-eyed cat with blood on their mouth. Poor hygiene, poor attitude. Yeah, unimpressed puts it rather plainly, though he does find some sense of curiosity deep in there. Somewhere. "The hell're you talking about?" he demands, rising up to his full height and leaning backwards, light on his paws. Even as a small canine, he dwarfs Malphas.

And he, in turn, is dwarfed by Zimavich. He watches the ear tug with an expression that's suddenly blank, golden-brown eyes distant and glassy. For a moment, it felt as if his circuits were trying to reconnect, just a bit. Nothing comes out of it and for the first time, the frustration is almost enough to drive Courier to tears. The dog's teeth clench and grind, then he exhales shakily. Pointed ears, almost pinned back in his moment of anger, relax back to their natural state. His attention flicks from somewhere around the bear dog's chest to his eyes, which requires a strange tip of his head that he's not fond of. "Who's Beck?" What did he mean joiner? And name — name — his throat dries up and constricts around the admission that he doesn't have one, so the canine murmurs, "Courier," and tries not to sound too hesitant.

"My name's Courier."