Strike (Preternatural senses) Complete success
Another day at the fair, another morning shift finished. Max was still in what passed for his uniform for this job. A shirt making it clear he was EMS with his usual uniform trousers, and solid boots, although the suspenders hanging around his hips made him look very much 'at ease' rather than rushing to an emergency. The spice bag he'd picked up from one of the booths by the medic station completed the off-duty look, Max picking his way through the spicy fries, bell peppers, and onion. Irish street food, apparently, as anachronistic as he was in this whole medieval scene, but damn was it tasty.
He was back to wandering, trekking his way from where he'd gotten the spice bag, going deeper into the temporary village that'd erupted out of the middle of the woods. He'd not been around in this area before, preferring Northrop's wilder woods, so he wondered if this was a natural clearing or if it'd been prepared for the fair. The look of the trees at the edges made him think it was a mix of both, a spot regularly cleared of new growth when it crept closer.
The werewolf was popping a particularly spicy fry into his mouth when he caught a familiar scent. Billy, standing near one of the trash receptacles–cleverly hidden in a barrel, so it didn't look too out of place–tossed a turkey leg that he hadn't even finished. Max would've called it a waste, but he'd been told the turkey legs were tough and not all that flavourful, so maybe Billy'd been disappointed by it. It'd been a while since Max had dropped by and met the guy, but he looked... better. And he was outside of the apartment, and that said something even if he wasn't okay.
Altering his course, Max came up next to the kid, nudging him with an elbow and laughing. “Billy! Why'd you buy it if you aren't gonna eat it, man?” His spice bag was fragrant and delicious, the food handled far better than whatever came out of the turkey leg booths. Max popped another fry in his mouth, quirking a smirk at Billy for his unfortunate culinary choices.
Max gave the man a once over, too, seeing he was dressed normally, rather than wearing a tunic or a sword, or whatever. Up close he was less pathetic looking than last time, too, so maybe he'd kept eating the stew Max dropped with Junie from his ma.
Another day at the fair, another morning shift finished. Max was still in what passed for his uniform for this job. A shirt making it clear he was EMS with his usual uniform trousers, and solid boots, although the suspenders hanging around his hips made him look very much 'at ease' rather than rushing to an emergency. The spice bag he'd picked up from one of the booths by the medic station completed the off-duty look, Max picking his way through the spicy fries, bell peppers, and onion. Irish street food, apparently, as anachronistic as he was in this whole medieval scene, but damn was it tasty.
He was back to wandering, trekking his way from where he'd gotten the spice bag, going deeper into the temporary village that'd erupted out of the middle of the woods. He'd not been around in this area before, preferring Northrop's wilder woods, so he wondered if this was a natural clearing or if it'd been prepared for the fair. The look of the trees at the edges made him think it was a mix of both, a spot regularly cleared of new growth when it crept closer.
The werewolf was popping a particularly spicy fry into his mouth when he caught a familiar scent. Billy, standing near one of the trash receptacles–cleverly hidden in a barrel, so it didn't look too out of place–tossed a turkey leg that he hadn't even finished. Max would've called it a waste, but he'd been told the turkey legs were tough and not all that flavourful, so maybe Billy'd been disappointed by it. It'd been a while since Max had dropped by and met the guy, but he looked... better. And he was outside of the apartment, and that said something even if he wasn't okay.
Altering his course, Max came up next to the kid, nudging him with an elbow and laughing. “Billy! Why'd you buy it if you aren't gonna eat it, man?” His spice bag was fragrant and delicious, the food handled far better than whatever came out of the turkey leg booths. Max popped another fry in his mouth, quirking a smirk at Billy for his unfortunate culinary choices.
Max gave the man a once over, too, seeing he was dressed normally, rather than wearing a tunic or a sword, or whatever. Up close he was less pathetic looking than last time, too, so maybe he'd kept eating the stew Max dropped with Junie from his ma.