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The Homeless Bearde
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"I don't want you monkey-mouth motherfuckers sitting in my throne again."
[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]
The fact that Dougie didn't state his own weapon appeared to go over his two most unlikely of companions' heads, and he let it remain there. The less they knew about him at this juncture was probably best, and he found the situation hard enough to gauge as it was without tipping his hand.

His gaze landed on Jewel as he took a step forwards, closing the gap between the two and himself another foot or so. He was tense, wary, on edge. He didn't like the way Jewel had eyed Erik's gun.

Conversation ball was in her court, now. Dougie jammed his hands into his pockets, trying to affect an air of casual observation as his gaze roved over Jewel's face, looking for any hint, any betrayal, of motive.
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We All Look So Perfect · Open Air Cabaret
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