wing to wing we dance around / joining

[B. DELORIA]

[align=center][div style="width: 500px; text-align: justify; font-size: 9.4pt; line-height: 1.4;"]It occurred to Butch -probably a li'l late; Val was the brains of the operation, not Butch- that if the guy was a shukster here to pull the wool over his eyes and murder him, he very well could. Seemed like the kinda thing that wouldn't be out of place here, and the sheer amount of strange people would always unsettle Butch. Wasn't like a vault had vast deserts for all kinds of creepos to roam, and Butch had been top dog there, but he wasn't bloodthirsty like the people out here. He'd never killed anyone before. Hell, Tsuyu would've had a harder time stealing candy from a baby than she did dragging him off with her froggy tongue, so he eyeballed the canine a bit more, except he had no idea what to look for. Guy wasn't sleezy. He was bigger than Butch, sure, had those odd tattoos, but he had a sense of style, more than everyone else here. It'd been a while since someone other than Val had fur Butch wanted to get his paws on and experiment with, but he wasn't a barber here, just a slave.

Eugene here was already a rung higher.

The collie kept himself from fidgeting, because he was no candy ass cowed by a bit of staring. The collar was distracting. "A what?" Probably some slang he'd never heard before. "Prisoner? Close, but no cigar. The word's slave." Butch's expression twisted in disgust, clearly unimpressed by his rank, but it wasn't like he could change it. Well, he could, supposedly, if he was a good li'l pet and did what he was told, but that was for squares. Could he call the people here squares? They were outside that classification.

Butch would bet this guy wanted to get out of the heat soon, though, because he did, and his fur wasn't nearly as thick as Eugene's. Was that- smoke? The hell? Was he gonna catch fire or- what was the word- combust? Where was Val when he needed questions answered? His surprise left him off guard, so the easy reply caught him at a poor time and it took him a second to right his rocker. "Yeah? Stick around and that classy chassis might make my day, baby," Butch drawled, smirk audible, though the mention of the other members had him sobering a bit, and just in the nick of time, some Pitt schmuck joined in. His features tightened, bright eyes sharper, and then he glanced briefly at Eugene. "Butch. If you really are crazy enough to stay, catch me later. I've gotta cut out." A half-hearted wink and the collie was on his way. Someone would need something from him eventually.