[ Coming from the sterile environment of the clinic to the festivities outdoors is a little overwhelming on the senses, to say the least, but the food (and alcohol) easily brings Bigby in for more. Having a persistently hungry stomach makes it easier to burn through most samples, he’s found, though one savory-sweet smell in particular draws him away from the main stalls, until he finds—
—of course. Firepaw might be orange, but he recognizes that scent almost immediately. ]
The hell are you hissing at?
[ Bigby takes a slow drink from his cup, keeping his eyes locked right onto the Litten’s. He’s certainly looked better, that’s for sure, but Firepaw might also notice his fur seems to have shifted from purple to white since they last met. ]
1.b. (birthday c-c-combo breaker)
—of course. Firepaw might be orange, but he recognizes that scent almost immediately. ]
The hell are you hissing at?
[ Bigby takes a slow drink from his cup, keeping his eyes locked right onto the Litten’s. He’s certainly looked better, that’s for sure, but Firepaw might also notice his fur seems to have shifted from purple to white since they last met. ]