Post by Scamp on Aug 2, 2019 0:46:07 GMT
(January 12th, early evening in the hideout, set before Get Blurry, Sloppy, Boozy, and Blind. Closed to Scamp and Peg .)
The fledgling life, Scamp was finding, was really not so bad. But it wasn't all it was cracked up to be, either.
Was he grateful to have been rescued by such a kind, benevolent human? Absolutely. Was he lucky to have a place to sleep and meals to eat? Of course! But was he getting any enjoyment out of having to do chores? Definitely not. There had also been talk of receiving his mentor assignment any day now, which was making him feel apprehensive -- he was excited by the prospect of finally getting to train, but he was also nervous about what kind of mentor he would be assigned to.
Worries cast aside, it really was nice to be somewhere with a roof over his head. Despite the thrills of occasional outdoor living, Scamp was a house pet through and through. For as much as he had tried to deny this part of his life, he truly did enjoy having a home base -- especially now that he was in unfamiliar territory. But with the friends he had made a few days ago in Corona, he was finally starting to adjust...
...even if he had to help earn his keep.
The Snuggly Duckling's activity was currently at a low buzz, though he presumed it would start to pick up before long. For the last hour-and-a-half he'd been lending a paw to help prepare for the evening rush. The staff may have thought it funny, but they appreciated the extra help nonetheless.
Scamp had just finished taking out the garbage before slipping through the tavern quietly and descending to the Wings' secret hideout, thoroughly tuckered out. He hadn't even eaten dinner yet, but he found he was already contented to turn in for the night. He lowered himself into a deeeeep stretch, arching his back and craning his neck, and shook his mop of grey fur out. He then flopped on to his butt, and began to scratch at his ear.
Though he did not realize it in the moment, if one looked from afar, he was the spitting image of his father.
The fledgling life, Scamp was finding, was really not so bad. But it wasn't all it was cracked up to be, either.
Was he grateful to have been rescued by such a kind, benevolent human? Absolutely. Was he lucky to have a place to sleep and meals to eat? Of course! But was he getting any enjoyment out of having to do chores? Definitely not. There had also been talk of receiving his mentor assignment any day now, which was making him feel apprehensive -- he was excited by the prospect of finally getting to train, but he was also nervous about what kind of mentor he would be assigned to.
Worries cast aside, it really was nice to be somewhere with a roof over his head. Despite the thrills of occasional outdoor living, Scamp was a house pet through and through. For as much as he had tried to deny this part of his life, he truly did enjoy having a home base -- especially now that he was in unfamiliar territory. But with the friends he had made a few days ago in Corona, he was finally starting to adjust...
...even if he had to help earn his keep.
The Snuggly Duckling's activity was currently at a low buzz, though he presumed it would start to pick up before long. For the last hour-and-a-half he'd been lending a paw to help prepare for the evening rush. The staff may have thought it funny, but they appreciated the extra help nonetheless.
Scamp had just finished taking out the garbage before slipping through the tavern quietly and descending to the Wings' secret hideout, thoroughly tuckered out. He hadn't even eaten dinner yet, but he found he was already contented to turn in for the night. He lowered himself into a deeeeep stretch, arching his back and craning his neck, and shook his mop of grey fur out. He then flopped on to his butt, and began to scratch at his ear.
Though he did not realize it in the moment, if one looked from afar, he was the spitting image of his father.