I will post tonight, after the infantry situation update
MachineSoul
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GEARS - Mecha Sci-fi with Anthro characters. RP in a detailed, story-driven world.
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9 yrs ago
Forum: Casual Roleplay
Miles rested his cheek against a fist, his eyes never leaving Christa as she gave away a bit more of her past. It became clear to him why the woman had such a conviction about treating anthros right, but there was still enough room for doubt in his mind to make him take everything with a grain of salt. Even though her facial expression clearly indicated sadness and sorrow, some sort of instinct nagged at him to not trust her wholeheartedly and keep on his toes for the smallest of inconsistent behavior.
"I'm sorry to hear that you've been through all that. You really are looking to crack some heads." He said with half a voice, dropping the whole comical cordiality in the trash bin. He looked down at his fingers as he began to twirl them together in a windmill motion, clearly processing something through his mind. It was either or that, or he was covering his face, trying to hide his own sorrow, his own weakness.
"Well. If I knew where they sent everyone off, I wouldn't be sitting here, right? I'm one of the "Lucky 137" folk that got to stay behind and make ourselves useful for the human community; by useful, I mean labor, poor education and poverty conditions. To me, this isn't a sensitive subject to talk about, I have enough things to say about it, but I'd rather not flap my muzzle out here in the open, I'd might get shot by a supremacist; not that someone would actually miss me, but I don't want to die without taking another look at your nice hind. I can die peacefully after that, though." He tried to recover from the dark place his mind inadvertently fell in at the mention of the harrowing night the anthro populace was selected.
"I've also searched about it. Much like you, I've lost something, but I fear I will never win it back; I do want some sort of closure, though. Just find out where they've been all taken. I mean, the usual answer 'they have been assigned to different parts of the country and the world to work in suitable facilities for their talents' just doesn't cut it, especially because no one tried to contact anyone back home." He leaned in, looking left and right, to make sure no one dangerous was eavesdropping on the conversation; if it were a regular 'flesho1', he'd be more than glad to crack a skull, he needed to vent some anger on a target.
"I fear they've been taken to a place worse than a factory, or anything the like. My gut tells me it's a concentration camp, like the Nazis had nearly a century ago: work for food in poor conditions and worse treatment, but the government covers it all and hides the mess under the rug so they can push the agenda of humanity supremacy over the anthrokind. Fuel that with proxy conflicts, with our race being forced to take less-than-respectable-or-legal-jobs and just the general mood and opinion about us and hey presto, a lot of money, supporters and recognition. The elections are knocking at the door, after all, and I can assure you that no true American will vote for a pansy "zoophile"."
Miles retread his head, checking his surroundings again for any threat. "Great. First date in, we're already talking politics. Tomorrow, you can expect a ring and a prenuptial agreement: you get to keep me on a leash, but I can go poopy in your toilet as an exchange."
"But seriously, I don't know if we're ever going to get any official info on anything about the Selection. Dig too deep and we'll have feds sniffing our butts. Speak too loudly and the CIA shoots us down. Support the opposition and all hell breaks loose. For a first date, though, let's just settle with burgers, poopy and leg huming, eh?"
Although he tried his best to hide his own worry and personal vendetta, there were enough hints on his expression to tell that he was emotionally attached to the whole situation and very passionate about finding justice. He felt some hint of regret building up at the back of his throat, realizing he confessed his beliefs to a human, practically, the enemy. Even if Christa was a nice enough lady, she was still a bare-skinned humanoid.
1 Flesho = Anthrofolk slang attributed to the Neo-Nazi subculture which strongly supports anthro intolerance and segregation.
"I'm sorry to hear that you've been through all that. You really are looking to crack some heads." He said with half a voice, dropping the whole comical cordiality in the trash bin. He looked down at his fingers as he began to twirl them together in a windmill motion, clearly processing something through his mind. It was either or that, or he was covering his face, trying to hide his own sorrow, his own weakness.
"Well. If I knew where they sent everyone off, I wouldn't be sitting here, right? I'm one of the "Lucky 137" folk that got to stay behind and make ourselves useful for the human community; by useful, I mean labor, poor education and poverty conditions. To me, this isn't a sensitive subject to talk about, I have enough things to say about it, but I'd rather not flap my muzzle out here in the open, I'd might get shot by a supremacist; not that someone would actually miss me, but I don't want to die without taking another look at your nice hind. I can die peacefully after that, though." He tried to recover from the dark place his mind inadvertently fell in at the mention of the harrowing night the anthro populace was selected.
"I've also searched about it. Much like you, I've lost something, but I fear I will never win it back; I do want some sort of closure, though. Just find out where they've been all taken. I mean, the usual answer 'they have been assigned to different parts of the country and the world to work in suitable facilities for their talents' just doesn't cut it, especially because no one tried to contact anyone back home." He leaned in, looking left and right, to make sure no one dangerous was eavesdropping on the conversation; if it were a regular 'flesho1', he'd be more than glad to crack a skull, he needed to vent some anger on a target.
"I fear they've been taken to a place worse than a factory, or anything the like. My gut tells me it's a concentration camp, like the Nazis had nearly a century ago: work for food in poor conditions and worse treatment, but the government covers it all and hides the mess under the rug so they can push the agenda of humanity supremacy over the anthrokind. Fuel that with proxy conflicts, with our race being forced to take less-than-respectable-or-legal-jobs and just the general mood and opinion about us and hey presto, a lot of money, supporters and recognition. The elections are knocking at the door, after all, and I can assure you that no true American will vote for a pansy "zoophile"."
Miles retread his head, checking his surroundings again for any threat. "Great. First date in, we're already talking politics. Tomorrow, you can expect a ring and a prenuptial agreement: you get to keep me on a leash, but I can go poopy in your toilet as an exchange."
"But seriously, I don't know if we're ever going to get any official info on anything about the Selection. Dig too deep and we'll have feds sniffing our butts. Speak too loudly and the CIA shoots us down. Support the opposition and all hell breaks loose. For a first date, though, let's just settle with burgers, poopy and leg huming, eh?"
Although he tried his best to hide his own worry and personal vendetta, there were enough hints on his expression to tell that he was emotionally attached to the whole situation and very passionate about finding justice. He felt some hint of regret building up at the back of his throat, realizing he confessed his beliefs to a human, practically, the enemy. Even if Christa was a nice enough lady, she was still a bare-skinned humanoid.
1 Flesho = Anthrofolk slang attributed to the Neo-Nazi subculture which strongly supports anthro intolerance and segregation.
In
GEARS - Mecha Sci-fi with Anthro characters. RP in a detailed, story-driven world.
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9 yrs ago
Forum: Casual Roleplay
I've returned! I should be available to post at a normal, weekly frequency. 'Tis good to have vacation, man.
@Mr_pink Nice, groovy tune going on there! The rhythm is accelerated, but not uncomfortably so, the saxophones are killing it (the good way); maybe a bit of wah-wah effect on a guitar track would add to the happy-go-lucky mood without cluttering the song. The only thing that I dislike about it is the vocals, to me it sounds a bit off-key (or maybe I'm not accustomed to this musical style and genre). A good stress reliever in my opinion, it would work pretty well on a long car ride since it's not distracting, but you won't completely ignore it either; you'll realize you're tapping to the rhythm by the time the song ends.
My rating: 8-10
My rating: 8-10
In
GEARS - Mecha Sci-fi with Anthro characters. RP in a detailed, story-driven world.
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9 yrs ago
Forum: Casual Roleplay
I really am starting to miss this
"Not so bad, she says. Not bad for a dog, huh?" He poked at her quite coyly, seeing that she reacted positively at his quips. It pleased him to see her all flushed and giddy, he figured that someone in the command chain either really wanted to give Miles a break, or had no idea what he was doing.
"Miles will be fine, then. I'll have to get used to it, though, not a lot of people call me by my name anymore. I suppose not a lot of people call you Chrissy either. Trust is such a fickle thing too."
The food and drinks arrived at a certain point, Miles tried to help the waitress with placing the burgers and beverages without creating a sloppy mess; he felt his snout wrinkle in disgust when he saw the woman's aversion to him when he accidentally brushed his hand against her. Can't be any more yucky than touching a fucking dog, at least I'm cleaner, he scornfully thought as he checked out his burger. He didn't dig into it, instead, he used a knife to cut through the middle of it to check the meat on the inside; placing his finger against the pink-reddish portion of the meat, he felt that it was cold. Raw, he thought, is very different from medium rare, you fucking idiots. Thanks. He decided against complaining, as, he didn't want to look even more like a victim in the eyes of Christa; that, and, he knew too well the chef or the waitress would tell him to kindly fuck off and eat somewhere else if he didn't like the food there. He could stomach raw meat, much like any other omnivorous or carnivorous anthro, but he definitely preferred the meat heated up to some degree. So, he started eating away at it, feeling the weird, cold texture of the meat against his teeth and tongue; he still kept a smile on his face, he educated himself to be able to smile no matter what is happening to him, not a lot of people really care if an anthro is frowning or brooding. Christa might care, but again, he didn't want to victimize himself any more, since it wouldn't have a funny connotation in this scenario. He glanced over to the woman only to see her finish the thing way before him. Poor thing was starving. Also a tomboy. A prissy one would have taken me to a fancier place, if she would have taken me out at all.
When he heard her giggle, he turned his attention again to her to see what was so funny to her; she couldn't tell him, since she was having a real good blast, blushing and all, so he tried to figure out what amused her so much. As soon as he felt something weird on his nose, he crossed his eyes to try to focus and his own snout and there was a chunk of barbecue sauce stuck on the tip of his nose. His first instinct was to wipe his nose with a napkin and continue eating, but he reconsidered it quickly seeing the woman still giggling at him; she did have a very pleasant giggle for a police officer, thus, Miles took a quick look around him to see if anyone was watching him and once he made sure that there were no eyes on him, he used his long tongue to wipe off the sauce with two quick licks, much like a normal dog. He blinked twice and painted his expression with a small smile before he licked his upper lip too.
"You're easy to amuse, I see." He said after he swallowed his bite. "It's nice to have someone laugh at your stupid jokes every once in a while. Makes me feel slightly smarter." Just then, most of the contents of the burger half in his hands slid out, leaving Miles with a pair of buns; he looked at the pile of meat, sauce and veggies that landed on the plate more or less safely and snorted in amusement. "Like I said, slightly." At some point, he did manage to finish the whole thing, but now he was focused to clean the tips of his furred fingers to make sure there were no sauce or oil stains to make them stink of food the rest of the day.
"There's still something I still don't get", Miles started as he prepared to attack the french fries, after a couple of gulps of water, "why apply for the K-9 division? I know most of the guys are in for the money and the relative comfort, since we do the dirty job instead of them, but that's not you though. Let me guess: fetish, personal vendetta? Redemption? No? Hm. Trying to prove something? Ooh, I know! You saw my picture on the wall and said 'dayum, look at that hunk, I'd let him hump my leg all'- okay, someone should put me on a leash already before I break anything." He picked up a few fries with the fork and fed himself just to stuff his mouth to prevent himself from laughing at his own stupid jokes. "But for real now, you made me curious. You're the first police officer that offered to have something to eat together, the only police officer that let me sit on the passenger seat. Something has to drive you to do all this. You tell me this, then, you get to ask me one thing about myself. Deal?"
"Miles will be fine, then. I'll have to get used to it, though, not a lot of people call me by my name anymore. I suppose not a lot of people call you Chrissy either. Trust is such a fickle thing too."
The food and drinks arrived at a certain point, Miles tried to help the waitress with placing the burgers and beverages without creating a sloppy mess; he felt his snout wrinkle in disgust when he saw the woman's aversion to him when he accidentally brushed his hand against her. Can't be any more yucky than touching a fucking dog, at least I'm cleaner, he scornfully thought as he checked out his burger. He didn't dig into it, instead, he used a knife to cut through the middle of it to check the meat on the inside; placing his finger against the pink-reddish portion of the meat, he felt that it was cold. Raw, he thought, is very different from medium rare, you fucking idiots. Thanks. He decided against complaining, as, he didn't want to look even more like a victim in the eyes of Christa; that, and, he knew too well the chef or the waitress would tell him to kindly fuck off and eat somewhere else if he didn't like the food there. He could stomach raw meat, much like any other omnivorous or carnivorous anthro, but he definitely preferred the meat heated up to some degree. So, he started eating away at it, feeling the weird, cold texture of the meat against his teeth and tongue; he still kept a smile on his face, he educated himself to be able to smile no matter what is happening to him, not a lot of people really care if an anthro is frowning or brooding. Christa might care, but again, he didn't want to victimize himself any more, since it wouldn't have a funny connotation in this scenario. He glanced over to the woman only to see her finish the thing way before him. Poor thing was starving. Also a tomboy. A prissy one would have taken me to a fancier place, if she would have taken me out at all.
When he heard her giggle, he turned his attention again to her to see what was so funny to her; she couldn't tell him, since she was having a real good blast, blushing and all, so he tried to figure out what amused her so much. As soon as he felt something weird on his nose, he crossed his eyes to try to focus and his own snout and there was a chunk of barbecue sauce stuck on the tip of his nose. His first instinct was to wipe his nose with a napkin and continue eating, but he reconsidered it quickly seeing the woman still giggling at him; she did have a very pleasant giggle for a police officer, thus, Miles took a quick look around him to see if anyone was watching him and once he made sure that there were no eyes on him, he used his long tongue to wipe off the sauce with two quick licks, much like a normal dog. He blinked twice and painted his expression with a small smile before he licked his upper lip too.
"You're easy to amuse, I see." He said after he swallowed his bite. "It's nice to have someone laugh at your stupid jokes every once in a while. Makes me feel slightly smarter." Just then, most of the contents of the burger half in his hands slid out, leaving Miles with a pair of buns; he looked at the pile of meat, sauce and veggies that landed on the plate more or less safely and snorted in amusement. "Like I said, slightly." At some point, he did manage to finish the whole thing, but now he was focused to clean the tips of his furred fingers to make sure there were no sauce or oil stains to make them stink of food the rest of the day.
"There's still something I still don't get", Miles started as he prepared to attack the french fries, after a couple of gulps of water, "why apply for the K-9 division? I know most of the guys are in for the money and the relative comfort, since we do the dirty job instead of them, but that's not you though. Let me guess: fetish, personal vendetta? Redemption? No? Hm. Trying to prove something? Ooh, I know! You saw my picture on the wall and said 'dayum, look at that hunk, I'd let him hump my leg all'- okay, someone should put me on a leash already before I break anything." He picked up a few fries with the fork and fed himself just to stuff his mouth to prevent himself from laughing at his own stupid jokes. "But for real now, you made me curious. You're the first police officer that offered to have something to eat together, the only police officer that let me sit on the passenger seat. Something has to drive you to do all this. You tell me this, then, you get to ask me one thing about myself. Deal?"
Hey, don't fret, it's my fault I didn't give you enough to work with. I'll get a reply by tomorrow morning/evening, it's almost 02:00 here and I'm fighting to keep my eyes open @.@
I'm glad you like Miles :D I can say the same about Christa, she's starting to grow on me :3
I'm glad you like Miles :D I can say the same about Christa, she's starting to grow on me :3
Miles was thoroughly impressed by the woman's attitude towards him, but it felt too weird for any of it to be true; he knew that it wasn't a dream, Scout usually has his long ears wrapped around his neck -much like a scarf- in his dreamworld. All that he could do was to listen to her speak, absorbing every word and picturing every phrase in his mind. He couldn't brag too much about loving humans, not after he taught himself to avoid them and be on guard at all times when around them; his own life experience made him hate humans. With all the nice things Christa said to him, he still had his defenses up, ready to take insults and ridicule with a straight face. Yet, he stood there, smiling at her, taking her kind words in to heal his broken ego.
"Hey, I got your back too, it's my job after all. Well, I've got your everything, the contract tells. Look, ma'am, I-"
The next thing he knew, he felt his hand touched by something and gripped tight, his first reaction was to hesitate and jerk his head down; he saw Christa's hand grasping at his own, then, her smiling at him. He felt embarrassed of his first, evasive reaction towards her and tried to correct his mistake by swiftly placing his right hand over hers to give a squeeze back, allowing a breathy chuckle to warm up the air between the two.
"Okay, ma- sorry. I mean, Chrissy. It'll take a while, yeah."
The wink killed him. His ears pointed up and he could feel his tail waggle somewhere behind him, hitting the cushions of the seat. That was the most inconspicuous moment of my life, good job, Miles, he told himself as he averted her gaze to try to kill the excitement that was a bit too obvious to be hidden. The waitress eventually popped up beside them, Miles erred a little before he spoke out his choices for lunch.
"A Californian style burger, fries and water. Oh, and I'd like the meat cooked medium-rare, please." And, as expected of an anthro, he paid his order straight up, including the tip. The K-9 sighed as he watched the waitress leave, feeling eager to talk more with Christa now. Get a grip, you thick idiot he scolded himself, you know better than to trust anyone outright. She may seem to be good and all, but give he a moment's slip and you'll see.
"So, if you're Chrissy, I must be- well, people call me Buck, Bucky, Mangy Mutt, Rex, Lassie, Dumb Dog, Fucktard, you pick." He then shifted his gaze down, a small smile visible on his lips. "Dad used to call me pup. He was pops, I was pup."
Shit, he thought, now you've done it. He covered his face in shame and tried to laugh the slip off.
"Please don't call me that of all things. Call me Sparky or something, but not pup."
"And also, you need to understand these things." He started, looking straight at her while he tried to relax by allowing his weight to bury him in the soft cushion. "I'm not used to this kind of treatment from a human. Anthros, yes, so long they're not my colleagues, but I've rarely met a homo sapiens sapiens actually wanting to converse with me and try to be nice; I can't trust anyone easily, not anymore. Sure, I appreciate kindness, but I've learnt on my own pelt the costs of being naive; you can insist as much as you want that you're nice and all, but know that I need some time to sniff you out before I can say that you're super cool. Don't get me wrong, you are already pretty cool, but you're a few steps away from super cool. And by cool, I don't mean the opposite of hot, because you're hot too- oh jeez."
He covered his mouth, the corner of his lips hinted a wide grin, his yellow eyes glanced away and back to Christa; his brow was lifted, allowing some light to reflect upon the irises, his snout's perfection and small imperfections clearly visible under the direct ray of sunlight: sleek but masculine shape of the muzzle, strong jaw, a small mole hidden somewhere under the corner of his mouth, fine forest of white whiskers, a barely visible scar. The way he glanced back at the woman was a clear hint that he totally meant to let his last few words slip.
"Hey, I got your back too, it's my job after all. Well, I've got your everything, the contract tells. Look, ma'am, I-"
The next thing he knew, he felt his hand touched by something and gripped tight, his first reaction was to hesitate and jerk his head down; he saw Christa's hand grasping at his own, then, her smiling at him. He felt embarrassed of his first, evasive reaction towards her and tried to correct his mistake by swiftly placing his right hand over hers to give a squeeze back, allowing a breathy chuckle to warm up the air between the two.
"Okay, ma- sorry. I mean, Chrissy. It'll take a while, yeah."
The wink killed him. His ears pointed up and he could feel his tail waggle somewhere behind him, hitting the cushions of the seat. That was the most inconspicuous moment of my life, good job, Miles, he told himself as he averted her gaze to try to kill the excitement that was a bit too obvious to be hidden. The waitress eventually popped up beside them, Miles erred a little before he spoke out his choices for lunch.
"A Californian style burger, fries and water. Oh, and I'd like the meat cooked medium-rare, please." And, as expected of an anthro, he paid his order straight up, including the tip. The K-9 sighed as he watched the waitress leave, feeling eager to talk more with Christa now. Get a grip, you thick idiot he scolded himself, you know better than to trust anyone outright. She may seem to be good and all, but give he a moment's slip and you'll see.
"So, if you're Chrissy, I must be- well, people call me Buck, Bucky, Mangy Mutt, Rex, Lassie, Dumb Dog, Fucktard, you pick." He then shifted his gaze down, a small smile visible on his lips. "Dad used to call me pup. He was pops, I was pup."
Shit, he thought, now you've done it. He covered his face in shame and tried to laugh the slip off.
"Please don't call me that of all things. Call me Sparky or something, but not pup."
"And also, you need to understand these things." He started, looking straight at her while he tried to relax by allowing his weight to bury him in the soft cushion. "I'm not used to this kind of treatment from a human. Anthros, yes, so long they're not my colleagues, but I've rarely met a homo sapiens sapiens actually wanting to converse with me and try to be nice; I can't trust anyone easily, not anymore. Sure, I appreciate kindness, but I've learnt on my own pelt the costs of being naive; you can insist as much as you want that you're nice and all, but know that I need some time to sniff you out before I can say that you're super cool. Don't get me wrong, you are already pretty cool, but you're a few steps away from super cool. And by cool, I don't mean the opposite of hot, because you're hot too- oh jeez."
He covered his mouth, the corner of his lips hinted a wide grin, his yellow eyes glanced away and back to Christa; his brow was lifted, allowing some light to reflect upon the irises, his snout's perfection and small imperfections clearly visible under the direct ray of sunlight: sleek but masculine shape of the muzzle, strong jaw, a small mole hidden somewhere under the corner of his mouth, fine forest of white whiskers, a barely visible scar. The way he glanced back at the woman was a clear hint that he totally meant to let his last few words slip.
The dog mimicked a thinking face, rubbing his furred chin while he hummed from the bottom of his throat. For once in a long time, he felt his heart just light enough to enjoy a chuckle an a bit of fooling around.
"Well, a chewing toy sounds really awesome, but I get super excited when I receive toys; I piss all over the place and hump legs, but a burger sounds better right now, yes. Canned food can only satisfy you so much." Seeing her so eerily excited, Miles shrugged and allowed himself to chuckle. "Alright, a burger it is in koreatown, ma'am."
The walk to the car felt like a long road, he waited for anything to happen: a flinch, a twitch, a scream, anything to startle him and finally show her true face, but up to that point, the woman seemed to be very consistent in her behavior. He didn't know if he should be worried that he was very good at acting or if he should be relieved that he could at least breath for a little. Her next gesture baffled him, he froze in place as Christa offered him the passenger's seat instead of his usual backseat he became used to; confused, he looked at the seat, at her and at the seat again, not knowing what to do. Since he couldn't really refuse the lady, since she was his superior, he crashed in the seat and buckled up for the ride. Once the doors were closed, he found the liberty to speak.
"I understand what you're doing here and I am very grateful of your kindness, ma'am, but be careful about this around the compound. If any other officer sees you sympathizing with the K-9, they'll start calling you "bitch" and, hell, worse things; it's a friendly advice for a friendly officer, I suppose."
The ride was rather silent, he occasionally threw a furtive glance at the officer to look for any change in her behavior, but it only seemed that she was concentrated on her driving. He looked at the outside world, at the people, at the traffic, trying to look for a perfect excuse to jump out of the passenger seat and chase someone down or something; he wanted anything to happen, so long he could leave the seat and get back behind. He felt very uncomfortable having to stay in front where everybody could see him, he was pretty sure someone would pick on him. He was quite glad the they finally arrived at the burger shop. Miles did try to run up and open the door for Christa, but he must have been really slow since it was opened for him way before he could reach it. Seeing her smile so wide at him pulled a smile out from his own snout. Is she actually into anthros or something? He asked himself as he stepped inside the diner. He didn't catch her checking him out, he was looking for a good spot to sit down with the officer. This time, he offered her to take her seat first, then, he placed himself across her.
While waiting for someone to bring them a menu, Miles rested his head against his own fist and gazed idly out the window, until he realized that there was an awkward moment of silence between the two for a while now.
"So, you come here often? Wow, what a way to start a conversation- Uh. Ah, I know a topic: you are too nice to me. If anyone else were to be my officer, I'd already be chasing black people around like in the good ol' days from two centuries ago. You've been around anthros a lot, haven't you?"
That was the moment of truth, no human with hatred towards anthros could answer such a question with a lie without flinching. At this point, he was staring straight at her with a tired smile on his snout, waiting for any kind of reply. Checking her again, he couldn't help but to think that she's looking good, for a human.
"Well, a chewing toy sounds really awesome, but I get super excited when I receive toys; I piss all over the place and hump legs, but a burger sounds better right now, yes. Canned food can only satisfy you so much." Seeing her so eerily excited, Miles shrugged and allowed himself to chuckle. "Alright, a burger it is in koreatown, ma'am."
The walk to the car felt like a long road, he waited for anything to happen: a flinch, a twitch, a scream, anything to startle him and finally show her true face, but up to that point, the woman seemed to be very consistent in her behavior. He didn't know if he should be worried that he was very good at acting or if he should be relieved that he could at least breath for a little. Her next gesture baffled him, he froze in place as Christa offered him the passenger's seat instead of his usual backseat he became used to; confused, he looked at the seat, at her and at the seat again, not knowing what to do. Since he couldn't really refuse the lady, since she was his superior, he crashed in the seat and buckled up for the ride. Once the doors were closed, he found the liberty to speak.
"I understand what you're doing here and I am very grateful of your kindness, ma'am, but be careful about this around the compound. If any other officer sees you sympathizing with the K-9, they'll start calling you "bitch" and, hell, worse things; it's a friendly advice for a friendly officer, I suppose."
The ride was rather silent, he occasionally threw a furtive glance at the officer to look for any change in her behavior, but it only seemed that she was concentrated on her driving. He looked at the outside world, at the people, at the traffic, trying to look for a perfect excuse to jump out of the passenger seat and chase someone down or something; he wanted anything to happen, so long he could leave the seat and get back behind. He felt very uncomfortable having to stay in front where everybody could see him, he was pretty sure someone would pick on him. He was quite glad the they finally arrived at the burger shop. Miles did try to run up and open the door for Christa, but he must have been really slow since it was opened for him way before he could reach it. Seeing her smile so wide at him pulled a smile out from his own snout. Is she actually into anthros or something? He asked himself as he stepped inside the diner. He didn't catch her checking him out, he was looking for a good spot to sit down with the officer. This time, he offered her to take her seat first, then, he placed himself across her.
While waiting for someone to bring them a menu, Miles rested his head against his own fist and gazed idly out the window, until he realized that there was an awkward moment of silence between the two for a while now.
"So, you come here often? Wow, what a way to start a conversation- Uh. Ah, I know a topic: you are too nice to me. If anyone else were to be my officer, I'd already be chasing black people around like in the good ol' days from two centuries ago. You've been around anthros a lot, haven't you?"
That was the moment of truth, no human with hatred towards anthros could answer such a question with a lie without flinching. At this point, he was staring straight at her with a tired smile on his snout, waiting for any kind of reply. Checking her again, he couldn't help but to think that she's looking good, for a human.
Hearing the door open, he walked over to the grates separating his own kennel from the rest, stood straight and still and saluted. Showtime he thought, feeling a chuckle of dismay trying to coax his muzzle open while he waited for the officer to arrive at his own little workplace. Darker and darker thoughts nagged him, fearing that he'll either have to cope with a fat, stupid and abusive officer of the law, or a slim, perverted and downright cruel mongrel of a man; he somehow contained his surprise when a womanly figure made its way in his field of view, his eyes nearly darted right down at her, but doing so could end up in a backhand slap over his nose. As soon as she greeted herself, Miles took the liberty to break his aimless stare and find her eyes; seeing her smile turned a gut in his abdomen, not knowing how to interpret that gesture of hers. He couldn't tell any form of hidden motive in her eyes, since her smile seemed to be as honest as possible. He swallowed dryly before he would open his mouth to talk, but he was promptly interrupted by Christa's offer to handshake. Confused, he blinked a few times before he responded with his own furred hand, feeling the softness of her skin as the fine fur brushed against it. He didn't shake too vigorously, or too limp, it was a proper introduction to the policewoman.
"It is an honor, ma'am." He replied courteously, unable to choke a small smile.
Crap, he thought,what is it that makes me smile like a dumb dog? The guard allowed Miles to get out of the cage without the extra security measure of handcuffing him, but instead, prepared a stun baton in case Miles tried anything smart. He followed the woman on the way out from the K-9 kennel, keeping silent most of the time; it was a good occasion to check her out and nodded to himself, approving of her body. If I'll get flayed alive, at least I'll have a nice view, he thought as they just exited the building.
Once out, Miles turned his head in the direction of the wind and whiffed at it, trying to catch any interesting scents floating in the air, but as usual, it was a mix of exhaust gas, perfume, freshly cut grass and feces. Especially feces. He stretched his back and arms, now that he had enough room to maneuver. After he readjusted the electroshock collar on his neck, he faced the officer and hid the sigh that came out on its own.
"What districts are we patrolling today, ma'am?" He asked, but as soon as he saw her flinch, his instinct snapped and told him she's a rookie. She never worked with a K-9 in her life. This is going to be a breeze.
"First timer with a K-9? If you allow me, ma'am, I could give you some suggestions: I know how to sit, roll, fetch, make poopy in the back yard, play dead. I still need to learn no to chew on things, but other than that, I'm pretty good at stuff. I'm not a call boy, though, I don't find the collar that kinky."
I sure hope she does have some faint sense of humor.
"It is an honor, ma'am." He replied courteously, unable to choke a small smile.
Crap, he thought,what is it that makes me smile like a dumb dog? The guard allowed Miles to get out of the cage without the extra security measure of handcuffing him, but instead, prepared a stun baton in case Miles tried anything smart. He followed the woman on the way out from the K-9 kennel, keeping silent most of the time; it was a good occasion to check her out and nodded to himself, approving of her body. If I'll get flayed alive, at least I'll have a nice view, he thought as they just exited the building.
Once out, Miles turned his head in the direction of the wind and whiffed at it, trying to catch any interesting scents floating in the air, but as usual, it was a mix of exhaust gas, perfume, freshly cut grass and feces. Especially feces. He stretched his back and arms, now that he had enough room to maneuver. After he readjusted the electroshock collar on his neck, he faced the officer and hid the sigh that came out on its own.
"What districts are we patrolling today, ma'am?" He asked, but as soon as he saw her flinch, his instinct snapped and told him she's a rookie. She never worked with a K-9 in her life. This is going to be a breeze.
"First timer with a K-9? If you allow me, ma'am, I could give you some suggestions: I know how to sit, roll, fetch, make poopy in the back yard, play dead. I still need to learn no to chew on things, but other than that, I'm pretty good at stuff. I'm not a call boy, though, I don't find the collar that kinky."
I sure hope she does have some faint sense of humor.
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