[size=9pt]Her name was what got his attention. Hovering at the border the same way the rest were, Moon was so completely embedded in his thoughts that he didn't realize he'd completely passed a group of voices 'till their voices, fading behind him, mention Margy. That gets a reaction out of him.
"You knew Fangs?" Says the lion, blunt, seemingly appearing out of nowhere. Moon's rocking his final form today, complete with a mane that defies gravity and bloodshot, glazed eyes. Usually, he might find it in him to stitch on at least a smile, even when he's like this, but the mention of Marg is enough to make him forget all that. Frowning, he looks the stranger over, and it seems like he's late to the party, because Onision is already on Act III of his typical bullshit. As tempting as it to keep staring at the unfamiliar feline that's rambling on about drinks and whatnot, the child of Margy himself - though Moon doesn't know how the fuck that happened - is intent on sending shit spiraling, and Moon can't fucking put up with this shit-- "Onision." He says, harsh, a touch of a snarl. "Do us all a favor and fuck off before I take your beloved rank and shove it where the sun don't shine, would you? And find some fucking self control while you're at it. Asshole commentary isn't in your job description."
Looking several types of exhausted, Moon turns back to the stranger and makes a good attempt at trying to mend what Onision had just taken a sledgehammer to. "Ignore him. Trust me when I say he's the worst we got. You can have the drink, and whatever the fuck else you want, but I can't let you in that easy." Wars, enemies, corpses, yada yada yada. Moon had reasons for his hesitance. "Where'd you come from?"
"You knew Fangs?" Says the lion, blunt, seemingly appearing out of nowhere. Moon's rocking his final form today, complete with a mane that defies gravity and bloodshot, glazed eyes. Usually, he might find it in him to stitch on at least a smile, even when he's like this, but the mention of Marg is enough to make him forget all that. Frowning, he looks the stranger over, and it seems like he's late to the party, because Onision is already on Act III of his typical bullshit. As tempting as it to keep staring at the unfamiliar feline that's rambling on about drinks and whatnot, the child of Margy himself - though Moon doesn't know how the fuck that happened - is intent on sending shit spiraling, and Moon can't fucking put up with this shit-- "Onision." He says, harsh, a touch of a snarl. "Do us all a favor and fuck off before I take your beloved rank and shove it where the sun don't shine, would you? And find some fucking self control while you're at it. Asshole commentary isn't in your job description."
Looking several types of exhausted, Moon turns back to the stranger and makes a good attempt at trying to mend what Onision had just taken a sledgehammer to. "Ignore him. Trust me when I say he's the worst we got. You can have the drink, and whatever the fuck else you want, but I can't let you in that easy." Wars, enemies, corpses, yada yada yada. Moon had reasons for his hesitance. "Where'd you come from?"
[align=center][div style="width: 500px; height: auto; text-align: center; font-family: ; font-size: 9pt; color: COLOR; letter-spacing: -.5px;"][i][b]and die like a hero going home.[glow=black,2,300]