patience to wait // joining

[rhosmari]

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[glow=#000,1,400]NOT CAUSE I'M BUSY, I JUST DON'T GIVE A FUCK — ｡+ﾟ.[/glow]

[div style="width: 480px; height: auto; text-align: justify; font-family: verdana; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 13px;"]Now to say that he didn't believe in anything that came out of this guy's mouth was an understatement. He was pretty fucking sure that everything he said was utter bullshit. Messenger of the dead and the living? Yeah sure, and he was actually a damn canine living in some messed up desert world. Well, living here for the moment anyway but he couldn't and wouldn't believe something like this or else it would make this whatever it was that was happening to him seem real. And that was not something he would ever come to terms with. Not in a million years would he believe that he died, someone amply trained to do such jobs, and had been turned into some damn animal with the ability to talk and conjure magic liquor out of thin air for his own enjoyment. It had to be some weird coma induced world and he was just getting better in the hospital, it had to be. There was no other explanation and as the other guy kept on talking and going on about the undead walking around and the likes of supernatural paranormal activity the more and more the brawler became increasingly upset. And not upset as if he might shed a few tears or go and close himself off to the world. No he was becoming increasingly angry as he heard his words. His body was tense as he lingered in the back, the hood of his cowboy hat hiding his expression from view.

His prehensile tail curled and uncurled, snapping back and forth at a harsh tone as he stared forward. Maybe he should go but he couldn't make himself move. Frankly he was pissed and he needed to go and hit something, fight someone. Anyone really and he turned away from the scene, huffing in a short breath. Really, he wondered if this was what his life had become, to be trapped in his own head forever never being able to walk up. Frankly that scared him and he couldn't deal with that right now so he went back to the drawing board. Something that was consistent in this world. Booze. It tasted the same, felt the same like fire down the back of his throat and he could use it to make himself feel better. To not feel anything for a little while and just be as he wanted for himself to wake up. All he wanted was to wake up and he walked away from the area, leaving the others to deal with whatever that guy had said he was because right now he couldn't deal with it and he wasn't about to either.