(no subject)
Long after the rash of wee baby pups has left the bar, one last remains.
Chase has got to learn to stop complaining about stuff within earshot of the Bar. Last time he complained about the pink shirt she gave him to wear, he ended up wearing a bedsheet toga for a week.
And now he's been worrying aloud about his upcoming thirtieth birthday.
And now there's an eight-year-old boy with the poofiest hair ever known to mankind staring slack-jawed at the observation window.
"So cool."
[OOC: Please, guys, don't kill me. I never got the chance to play a baby!pup back when they were in fashion, and I just wanted to try it for a night.]
Chase has got to learn to stop complaining about stuff within earshot of the Bar. Last time he complained about the pink shirt she gave him to wear, he ended up wearing a bedsheet toga for a week.
And now he's been worrying aloud about his upcoming thirtieth birthday.
And now there's an eight-year-old boy with the poofiest hair ever known to mankind staring slack-jawed at the observation window.
"So cool."
[OOC: Please, guys, don't kill me. I never got the chance to play a baby!pup back when they were in fashion, and I just wanted to try it for a night.]