[ ... of course the intended recipient is some fucking weirdo.
Stubborn bravado keeps Gen from backing off when the door swings open to reveal that jagged, eerie figure coming melting out of the darkness to loom over him. But faint signs of tension do manifest in his body language -- the square of his shoulders, the grit of dirt underfoot as he subtly shifts his weight on his feet, the slight backwards cant of those canine ears of his. Not to mention, something about the guy's tone of voice makes his nerves crawl in a way he can't ignore. His gut tells him this guy is truly dangerous. ]
-- fine. [ Still, pride dictates that Gen can't show any sign of discomfort. And faced by Bondrewd's impeccably polite and gracious request, he technically can't raise any complaints. After fixing a flat stare on Bondrewd for a moment, an ear flicking in consideration, he speaks again at a deadpan drawl, almost a dare for Bondrewd to give him shit about it when he adds: ] But unpacking it's not my job. You're on your own for that.
[ Look at how wonderful his customer service skills are. Truly perfect.
He huffs a disgruntled sigh as he shifts the weight of the backpack-style shoulder harness his cargo sits on, then ducks his head to wipes his face on the upper portion of his sleeve. The fabric comes away darker with sweat; he really is quite tired. ]
Just tell me where you want it.
[ His whippy tail curls close to his leg, but otherwise Gen does an admirable job of feigning casual as he jerks his chin, indicating for Bondrewd to lead the way into that delightful, totally-safe, totally-cozy warehouse that will surely not be dangerous or sketchy at all. ]
what do you mean, he's just doing a job for a nice polite guy
Stubborn bravado keeps Gen from backing off when the door swings open to reveal that jagged, eerie figure coming melting out of the darkness to loom over him. But faint signs of tension do manifest in his body language -- the square of his shoulders, the grit of dirt underfoot as he subtly shifts his weight on his feet, the slight backwards cant of those canine ears of his. Not to mention, something about the guy's tone of voice makes his nerves crawl in a way he can't ignore. His gut tells him this guy is truly dangerous. ]
-- fine. [ Still, pride dictates that Gen can't show any sign of discomfort. And faced by Bondrewd's impeccably polite and gracious request, he technically can't raise any complaints. After fixing a flat stare on Bondrewd for a moment, an ear flicking in consideration, he speaks again at a deadpan drawl, almost a dare for Bondrewd to give him shit about it when he adds: ] But unpacking it's not my job. You're on your own for that.
[ Look at how wonderful his customer service skills are. Truly perfect.
He huffs a disgruntled sigh as he shifts the weight of the backpack-style shoulder harness his cargo sits on, then ducks his head to wipes his face on the upper portion of his sleeve. The fabric comes away darker with sweat; he really is quite tired. ]
Just tell me where you want it.
[ His whippy tail curls close to his leg, but otherwise Gen does an admirable job of feigning casual as he jerks his chin, indicating for Bondrewd to lead the way into that delightful, totally-safe, totally-cozy warehouse that will surely not be dangerous or sketchy at all. ]