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[localhandywolf]

Now, see, the good thing about spring is that the roads are starting to clear. Which means that motorbikes are useable. Which means that Armand has been having way too much fun going too fast around corners because it's the closest he can get to running as a wolf

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[bass_line_blues]

Preston's sitting at a table, with a cup of ambiguous Wasteland alcohol in front of him.

He looks . . . a little stunned, to be honest.

(Did he seriously just talk Russ and Claire into thinking about a criminal justice system? Like, seriously, did that just actually happen?)

[localhandywolf]

Okay, that's...weird.

"Yo, Preston."

[bass_line_blues]

Preston blinks, startled, and then looks up with a grin.

"- Armand! Hey."

[localhandywolf]

"You're staring into space." He points out. Helpfully.

[rebelw_outclaws]

Russ is in a pissy mood.

Buuuut that isn't really unusual for the last little while.

But now that he and Claire have determined that they are not, in fact, going to go to war with each other, he can go back to brooding in his favorite shadowy corner in the Wasteland. Like he is now.

[localhandywolf]

Well, Russ has a second-in-command, who is currently looking much, much happier then he has in months, when all is said and done.

Despite everything.

"Russ."

[rebelw_outclaws]

He lifts his head, looks Armand over.

And smiles, just a little.

"'Bout fucking time, gimp."

[localhandywolf]

Loftily,

"Well, if you wanted to play God earlier and made the roads clear of snow, all you had to do was actually do so."

And then he sits down in a chair because, really? Sitting is good. Standing? Not so much.