cry havoc and -- no, sorry, opposite of that, please
The apartment is more or less back to normal, apart from the rather large hellhound seated patiently on the floor exactly where it had been while eating Leander. It doesn't pant like normal dogs, but sits still and close-mouthed like sleek black statue, eyes smoldering, unblinking. It tends to watch Harvestman when he's around, but otherwise, it stares at the chameleon or straight ahead. The whole thing is like a surrealist painting: table, chairs, couch, armchair, dead tree with a chameleon in it, black dog the size of an armchair (all right, it's smaller than that).
The doorknob rattles as Ben lets himself in (he still has the key to Leander's apartment even though it's been like, five years; he never offered, and Leander never asked). Of average height and build, he's mixed, black and latino, with sharp features and close-cropped hair, mid to late twenties at best.
The doorknob rattles as Ben lets himself in (he still has the key to Leander's apartment even though it's been like, five years; he never offered, and Leander never asked). Of average height and build, he's mixed, black and latino, with sharp features and close-cropped hair, mid to late twenties at best.