"But? I live for the /buts/, darling. Let's focus in that." He mused; wide set simper sprawling across his margins as onyx brows furrowed likened to a maddened scientists..

"No, Brian. I haven't. I'm afraid they would tell me no and I needed backup." His hands run tentatively over the brim of his velveteen blazer; crystalline optics set on his narrow and pointed features.

"I get shot out of /two/ cannons? Everything /is/ better in pairs." Poor boy; wouldn't know protection if he had a condom on his head.

"I think the problem is, Brian, that you /do/ think. No one has ever gotten famous by doing what is rational and logical. Quite the opposite, really." Nevertheless, he was flashing his prominent ivories whilst circling him. "/Three/ cannons. Final offer."

He's made breakfast for at least twenty people (when there at most eight of them). Nevetheless, bask in his glorious efforts and bite into an omelette.

Fine. If no one wants to partake in his breakfast feast he can and /will/ devour this stack of Belgian waffles all by himself.

Damn it, Roger.

"What the hell is this?" Holds up a crimson speedo that he has /no/ recollection of dawning. And if he did... It must have been one hell of a party.

That was one hell of a push.

It would /also/ be highly appreciated if a certain flaxen haired drummer boy would /not/ snatch the ice cold beverage from his well manicured hands.

He's smothered himself in a fort of cats and he has no plans on ever leaving. This is Heaven.

He's on his way.

He's so sorry he couldn't.

"You're a strange but beautiful bird, @ofgoldencharms." He mused; crystalline optics fixated on his sharp facet.

Time to drink.

"A fucking beautiful thing."

─⊱; ❝𝓨𝓸𝓾'𝓻𝓮 𝔀𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓱𝓮 𝔀𝓪𝓷𝓽𝓼...❞ ⊱═══ ☽—❖—☾ ═══⊰  Aɴ ɪɴᴅᴇᴘᴇɴᴅᴇɴᴛ & ᴘʀᴏғɪᴄɪᴇɴᴛ Esᴍᴇ Cᴜʟʟᴇɴ ᴘᴏʀᴛʀᴀʏʟ. sᴇᴇᴋɪɴɢ ᴘʟᴏᴛꜱ ᴀɴᴅ SLꜱ. ℋᴏᴜꜱᴇ ᴏғ #Hɪʀᴀᴇᴛʜ

Where have his beloved friends gone? It is a bad idea to leave the man unsupervised.

He's purchased 𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐂𝐀 𝐓𝐄𝐓𝐙𝐋𝐀𝐅𝐅. a little trinket of sorts. It has a cat on it.