He could not escape the confines of a parent’s home fast enough. Ears pinned back in silent aggravation, masked fur threatening to bristle as it clung to a father’s phrases. That tongue refusing to cease its wagging until the hound had finally slipped between the cracks and ducked into the relative freedom of the outdoors. How he loathed those get togethers for all they consisted of were plans of meetings with others, boring duties that would have long been thrown aside if it weren’t for the ways they managed to continuously reel him back in.

Yet each time there came further reminder as to why those paces fled as they did. Venomous tones from those who felt themselves above the rest of the world a constant grate upon the nerves. Reprimand for each act another found disapproval in. Those growled phrases so often rising from behind where he stood, Play along boy. You know what I’ve taught you. He did. Each lyric stirring distaste for one attempted to morph his nature into something it was not. All of this would be so much easier if ties could be severed, those forceful bonds broken.

For now all was over and done with, at least until the man found use for the wanderer once more and hired another to bring him back. Why was it so hard for them to understand this wasn’t what he wanted? Or rather, why did they choose to ignore it in the name of blood? A question asked yet never answered in ways which did not belittle. Blood ties were all that mattered to them. Lip curled as steps near guided themselves, the hound wanting nothing more than to blur thoughts behind a drink. Seize the attentions of a stranger if only for a little while.

Though such plans soon faltered as a whisper of familiarity teased the senses. It bid a gaze to flit over those who wandered this darkened hour, only for eyes to brighten the moment they fixed upon one adorned in brown leathers. While he hadn’t know the man for long there still came recognition of the clothing donned, the steady swagger of his step, and the gentle waft of tell tale aromas which lay tied upon each individual. His path altered, paces quick to fall in tune with the other as the hound sidled up alongside him.

Decorated crown tilting lightly as ears perked and a soft smile crossed his lips, “Ah Corvus! Did you just make it back into town? And so late too.” A question. A tease he need not add nor ask of the other for there lingered no fresh aromas. No sweat or stale blood tainting that form. No scents which spoke of grand adventure. Nothing to give way to any manner of excitement during the daylight hours. So what then had he been doing? Surely it had to at least have been more exciting than what August himself had been made to endure.

Shamelessly that rose-laden gaze drifted over the other’s frame - covered as it was - before finally settling upon shadowed features once again. Still nothing. Though observation hardly dampened a new found mood, “What have you been up to?” ’Because you certainly don’t smell as if you’ve been busy.’ A thought August kept to himself as sights drifted between the man he wished to focus upon and the very path taken.

Or perhaps a day had spelled bitterness and aggravation more than the drudging dullness of his own. Those phrases sharp as they cut through the air, that irritation a hard thing to miss. August knew it was not directed wholly at him and yet it still brought ears to cautiously twist back. An offer quick to fall between them as tone carried a light growl, “We could always do a little hunting.” If his fellow mercenary had anything of their's that was. He knew it to be a far stretch, if Corvus was merely waiting on another’s arrival then he very likely had heard nothing but a name or description. Contact made through writing or word of mouth alone.

The hound wasn’t quite in the mood for tracking anyone down but perhaps it would provide better entertainment than clouding the mind. Possibility he is not allowed to linger upon for much longer as questioning turns upon him. One earning a light scoff as those floppy ears pinned themselves flat to his crown, bright eyes rolling, “Family matters.” Those he held no intentions of elaborating on further though the mannerisms of a father were hardly hidden from the public eye. But Augustus had not slipped away to cling to such bitterness especially in pleasing company. Features steadily brightening as attentions soon settled upon the swordsman.

Soft smile painting its way across his lips, inquiry drawing focus entirely to the man kept at his side and while he knew little of the other’s preferences it did not stop the way an arm sought to lace around him. That decorated figure straying ever closer as fingers wished to coil about the man’s waist and pull him in. Purred phrases slipping easily into the sparse spaces left between them, “Other than spending it with you?” Lyrics insinuating far more than simply keeping to one another’s company though he was careful, sure to lace it with a quiet laugh before drawing back just enough to allow the crow his space.

Faint reluctance in such motions, a lie told to himself in saying that a touch was not tempted to linger. Uncaring of any eyes that may drift their way yet his was not a presence forced to be kept as another answer lay given, “Hardly.” He was hardly busy, he held no plans of returning home after the day had already been wasted but a liar was he for claiming nothing had turned within those wild thoughts. “Did you have something in mind dear crow?”

There came passing relief when an offer to track was turned down. Good. Neither of their time would be spent on such matters, hopefully that would grant opportunity for something far more exciting than a hunt. While one part of the hound’s mind may relish in the idea of it all, there was another more present conscious that loathed the idea. Hated the notions that a wolf placed into his thoughts. Hardly anything it desired was something that appealed to a goat. Yet the wants of a beast were hardly those he intended to focus upon, especially in the moments he laced an arm around another.

Fingers pressing boldly against him as Augustus reeled him near without any signs of hesitation, no matter how a mind may race. Proximity something he was never shy about though when it came to this man there was still an unknown of how he may react in full. With some known, luck would be pressed further. A figure would have leaned close enough for breath to tickle against flesh in nothing more than a whisper. Both hands would have trailed over flesh or into clothing in gentle tease.

But not with him. No reason to risk ruining what was already held.

And yet nothing could stop the way suggestion laced his tone. Nor would it silence the way he felt another’s body to wince upon initial touch. Flinch but never make any real effort to pull away, merely casting a peculiar look his way. One not judgmental per say though still tinged in unspoken question. Mixed with August’s own uncertainty it was enough to grant the man his space. No more attention drawn to the matter, an answer given upon the hound’s retreat. Though when suggestion of a spar rose one could not help but to question it.

“Oh? So late in the evening?” It was not something he was against and it wasn’t like he had to get back home by any particular hour. However, a spar had been the last thing on his mind though getting the blood pumping was probably - okay, was - better than drowning it in liquor. “And where would this spar be taking place?” They certainty couldn’t pull weaponry on the street without drawing attention of the guards. And there was uncertainty on if any of the more official training grounds were still open for public usage.

“But more importantly,” there came temptation to place a hand upon the crow once more, to tuck it beneath his chin and lean with brushing tease. It is a lure ignored. “Does the winner get to pick their prize?” It was always more fun when there was something at stake, even if it was something small. Something unknown until there came surrender.