I DON'T HAVE TIME FOR DANCING | WT

[JERSEYBOY]

[glow=#000,1,400]YOU AIN'T NOTHIN' BUT A HOUND DOG — TAGS[/glow]

If it was anything related to production, tidying up, and all that nonsense? It was likely that Jerseyboy would take no part in it. The only thing he genuinely gave a shit about was his personal appearance, and that was only when he wanted to care. Other than that, Jersey was a bit of a slob. Not that he gave a shit about what anybody else thought of it.

Speaking of which, the tuxedo cat had just taken a drag from his cigarette. Ashes dusted his white paws, and his green hues rested on the one who had asked if anyone here could sing. He nearly managed a snort at the question. As if he really had to ask if anyone here could sing. The answer was obviously yes and the best damn singer here was obviously him. Who else would it fucking be? Atticus? He thought not.

[glow=black,1,400]"That all depends."[/glow] The New Jerseyan ashed his smoke into the ground and tilted his head, casually glancing at Orpheus.  [glow=black,1,400]"Why d’ya ask?”[/glow] He didn’t want to sing some sort of sissy shit if that was what he wanted. He wouldn’t sing just anything, but most things he would. It often came as a shock to some that Jerseyboy had other hobbies than smoking and drinking and picking fights, and it was even more of a shock to when it turned out that his pipes weren’t all too bad.