Sometimes, he gets lucky. Tonight, it's dry, warm to an extent (his jacket helps) and the stars are ridiculously bright.
He lies draped across one of the peaked rooftops, one knee pulled up and an arm across his stomach while the other limbs dangle from the opposite side of the slant. The position he's in is a bit uncomfortable on his spine, but it's the only way he can look at the sky. At least his wings can relax and drape down over the sides as well.
He's holding a small canteen of something reeking of alcohol, bringing it to his lips every so often in his silent star-gazing. Had Erik not spoken when he did, Warren would have been none the wiser of his presence.
"Shit," he answers in a hiss, thrusting up from his spot and readying himself for an attack. The air around them fills with a distinct screech - not unlike a blade across a whetstone as he scrambles to get to his feet. Too late for him to try and take off, but when he turns to see who the voice belongs to, he pauses, withdraws the stretch of metal appendages at his back and furrows his brow. "... oh, it's you."
One of the only people that might(?) not attack him on sight. "Seriously doubting that my presence would be welcomed."
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branchandroot
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Date: 2017-02-16 12:30 pm (UTC)He lies draped across one of the peaked rooftops, one knee pulled up and an arm across his stomach while the other limbs dangle from the opposite side of the slant. The position he's in is a bit uncomfortable on his spine, but it's the only way he can look at the sky. At least his wings can relax and drape down over the sides as well.
He's holding a small canteen of something reeking of alcohol, bringing it to his lips every so often in his silent star-gazing. Had Erik not spoken when he did, Warren would have been none the wiser of his presence.
"Shit," he answers in a hiss, thrusting up from his spot and readying himself for an attack. The air around them fills with a distinct screech - not unlike a blade across a whetstone as he scrambles to get to his feet. Too late for him to try and take off, but when he turns to see who the voice belongs to, he pauses, withdraws the stretch of metal appendages at his back and furrows his brow. "... oh, it's you."
One of the only people that might(?) not attack him on sight. "Seriously doubting that my presence would be welcomed."