12-04-2018, 07:21 PM
These days, Leroy wasn’t too keen on hosting shit, especially if it got in the way of his daily schedule of lazing about and goldbricking. The mutt’s itinerary of idling was only made all the more present as a consequence of the sudden debilitating pains he’d been experiencing - perhaps it would be best if a date could be made with a medic to sort this out. Bah, that took too much time. And, besides, these were only headaches, and all headaches came to pass with time.
It hadn’t been his intention to partake in the ghost kid’s ‘meet and greet’, as it was for the best that less people knew about the geezer-guardsman and his incoherent intentions with society. However, as many working spirits out there understood, so much time and energy went into doing one’s job, and dozing off and dawdling around absolutely drained Leroy of the little efficiency he had. Thus, he wished to take a break from his hard labour, and instead sauntered casually to Beck’s meagre get-together.
How long had it been since the most previous social affair in this style had happened? A month, maybe two? They were simple enough, didn’t require too much from someone, just a name and their backstory. Well, in this case, a name, a backstory, and a Christmas decoration. By no means was the mutt a grinch, or anything similar, but the holiday was just so foreign to him. The songs, which now played endlessly on his personal jukebox, gave off a vague impression of what the whole holly jolly deal was. But as an individual who had never celebrated the season prior to very recently, the overbearing lights and chilly climate brought Leroy into an uneasy state of overawe. Making the scene, amber hues shining with an excited glare of inexperience for once, the stash of decorations took little to no time at all to locate; and just as much time went into choosing a personal flourish to add. It was a hot rod, cloaked in a chipping paint job of black as a base, with what were obviously at one time flames portrayed at the vehicle’s midsections. Christmas spirit was nowhere resembled on the minuscule automobile, making for a perfect ornament of choice.
Maybe next year, he’d have a little bit more knowledge on the festivities and expected traditions. Carefully placing his chosen representation of himself onto the celebratory fig, he’d then rotate his view to the rest present. "Most of ya know me," he’d initiate coolly, ”but for those who don’t - ‘m Leroy Starkweather, from the big city. Uh, ’m a guardsman, so don’t fuck up, ya know?”
It hadn’t been his intention to partake in the ghost kid’s ‘meet and greet’, as it was for the best that less people knew about the geezer-guardsman and his incoherent intentions with society. However, as many working spirits out there understood, so much time and energy went into doing one’s job, and dozing off and dawdling around absolutely drained Leroy of the little efficiency he had. Thus, he wished to take a break from his hard labour, and instead sauntered casually to Beck’s meagre get-together.
How long had it been since the most previous social affair in this style had happened? A month, maybe two? They were simple enough, didn’t require too much from someone, just a name and their backstory. Well, in this case, a name, a backstory, and a Christmas decoration. By no means was the mutt a grinch, or anything similar, but the holiday was just so foreign to him. The songs, which now played endlessly on his personal jukebox, gave off a vague impression of what the whole holly jolly deal was. But as an individual who had never celebrated the season prior to very recently, the overbearing lights and chilly climate brought Leroy into an uneasy state of overawe. Making the scene, amber hues shining with an excited glare of inexperience for once, the stash of decorations took little to no time at all to locate; and just as much time went into choosing a personal flourish to add. It was a hot rod, cloaked in a chipping paint job of black as a base, with what were obviously at one time flames portrayed at the vehicle’s midsections. Christmas spirit was nowhere resembled on the minuscule automobile, making for a perfect ornament of choice.
Maybe next year, he’d have a little bit more knowledge on the festivities and expected traditions. Carefully placing his chosen representation of himself onto the celebratory fig, he’d then rotate his view to the rest present. "Most of ya know me," he’d initiate coolly, ”but for those who don’t - ‘m Leroy Starkweather, from the big city. Uh, ’m a guardsman, so don’t fuck up, ya know?”