Happy Werewolf Wednesday, freaks.

Sinking back slowly into a plush rolling chair. One leg lifted over the opposite knee. Atlas’s gaze is idle. Scanning the paper briefly. Pausing for a sip of coffee before turning the page with an amused noise. The faintest smile curling at their lip. “Maybe I should read the paper more.”

>gently taps a claw against a vial of shimmer, holding the glass by the rounded end.> >there’s an errand or two that needs running. And Atlas is willing to pay for someone to handle it with how chilly it is.>

Now. If the business of shouting. And miscommunications are over. I’m going back to what I had been doing. >sharp ears angle back briefly. Eyes narrowed.> >grumbling quiet obscenities to himself, hunched over a desk.>

Poor creature. I have someone to fight for me. I don’t even need to pay him. Only ask.

No. I’m not dirtying my hands with a fight. Euh.

If you took that as me attempting to command you. I’m sorry you’re so thick headed. I’ll keep the rest of my thoughts to myself next time.

Oh don’t forgive it. Never mind-

I agree with the big brutes idea. But keep yourself. Over there. I do not need you approaching me. Either of you.

>slowly sets down pen, grabbing a good heavy book- AND HES THROWING IT AT JAYCE>

Strange. Strange place this is.

It’s incredibly late (but at least there’s anything at all). A firm, though hasty kiss is laid atop the personal annoyances head. Right between the ears as a small gift is dropped into @apollonic.bsky.social s hands. Whisking away just as suddenly as he had appeared. Atlas is gone.

Sharp ears falter slightly. Wavering at the heavy bass coming from the club as he approached. This...certainly was not the typical hangout that Atlas would choose. Even between life and death. Death would always be the favorable option against whatever kind of sinners paradise that had been --