[fancypost bgcolor=; border: 0px; width: 450px; text-align: justify; font-size: 10.5px;]"oh." now he remembers. they just don't bother about learning the names of things that could potentially kill people. kind of not the best thing to do, especially if you want to avoid said thing, but romanpaw does what romanpaw does. "i thought it was poisonous," he says cautiously.
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[fancypost bgcolor=; border: 0px; width: 450px; text-align: justify; font-size: 10.5px;]romanpaw trots over, blinking in curiosity at the flying cat. the sight of those wings makes him feel a little . . . nostalgic. which is strange, because romanpaw does not usually feel nostalgic.
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[/fancypost][size=10px]template © wolfe.
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[fancypost bgcolor=; border: 0px; width: 450px; text-align: justify; font-size: 10.5px;]rome hurriedly sweeps a paw over the scribbles on the ground, blinking up at halfpaw and nico. "um . . . in a room," he answers, pulling the coat tighter around himself. "a really small room." the word they're looking for is closet, but you can't expect the poor pup to know that.
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[/fancypost][size=10px]template © wolfe.
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[fancypost bgcolor=; border: 0px; width: 450px; text-align: justify; font-size: 10.5px;]well, fine, then. so long as he doesn't have to drink that weird potential poison, that's all right with rome. the wolfdog shrugs and trots after halfpaw.
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[/fancypost][size=10px]template © wolfe.
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[fancypost bgcolor=; border: 0px; width: 450px; text-align: justify; font-size: 10.5px;]"gift shop?" rome echoes. "what's a gift shop?" literally rome's entire life is "what is this? what is that?"
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[/fancypost][size=10px]template © wolfe.
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[fancypost bgcolor=; border: 0px; width: 450px; text-align: justify; font-size: 10.5px;]"welcome to the enterprise, then. i'm romanpaw," the wolfdog says. he's ninety-nine point nine percent sure he's doing it right, because the last he heard, there's an auto-acceptance policy thing. if things had changed mysteriously overnight, then whoops.
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[/fancypost][size=10px]template © wolfe.
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[fancypost bgcolor=; border: 0px; width: 450px; text-align: justify; font-size: 10.5px;]"pointy things? what pointy things?" romanpaw asks warily, furrowing his brow. if there are pointy things there, they aren't coming near. very dangerous, pointy things are. "what if . . . 'holmes' . . . gets too close to a pointy thing?"
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[/fancypost][size=10px]template © wolfe.
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[fancypost bgcolor=; border: 0px; width: 450px; text-align: justify; font-size: 10.5px;]rome shrugs, a little irritable. "i dunno, it was near my room. there were other cloth stuff in the small room, but they weren't big and warm." he probably won't be able to find it again, unless he tries really hard, but considering that most of the time he's unmotivated and lazy, that's not likely to happen.
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[/fancypost][size=10px]template © wolfe.
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[fancypost bgcolor=; border: 0px; width: 450px; text-align: justify; font-size: 10.5px;]romanpaw pauses for a brief second, returning to his usual loping stride at a slower pace to ponder the question. "i don't know," they reply simply. "do . . . do we need to talk?" he finds little use in talking when actions can say much more.
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[fancypost bgcolor=; border: 0px; width: 450px; text-align: justify; font-size: 10.5px;]rome blinks at aradia, a little bit surprised by the remark. "um. thanks?" he replies, tilting his head. they subconsciously pull their coat tighter around themselves. he's kind of possessive of it by now.
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[fancypost bgcolor=; border: 0px; width: 450px; text-align: justify; font-size: 10.5px;]romanpaw sits at a distance, near enough to hear what the others are saying, but far enough that he feels pretty comfortable. they nod in greeting to the others, fixing a politely curious stare at halfpaw.
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[fancypost bgcolor=; border: 0px; width: 450px; text-align: justify; font-size: 10.5px;]rome is silent for a while, thinking about something to talk about. "how is . . . your pet?" he offers feebly. you know, how's your potentially homicidal blue bunny. is taking over the world going well for it.
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— #roman15enterprise[/size]
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