Dixon's been pretty apathetic and sluggish lately, mostly cozying into nooks and crannies of various buildings as well as he can to alternately shiver and nap as the morgul bladewound sucks the energy and warmth from him. Currently, he's huddled under a blanket underneath the cash register at the Wawa. He probably wouldn't rouse for a fire alarm or a stampede of horses.
Pop music, though. Dixon perks right up, hearing some sound that sounds like a modernized Boomtown Rats, and drags his carcass up out of the convenience store like a moth to the flame. Blanket wrapped around him, he shuffles his way out the front door, peering through the twilight until he catches sight of a guy who looks like should be on WWE.
"Did you find that here?"
No hello, no who the hell are you. People have been popping up all over; that's pedestrian by now. But finding some kind of way to avoid draining his iPod down is in Dixon's top 5 priorities.
no subject
Pop music, though. Dixon perks right up, hearing some sound that sounds like a modernized Boomtown Rats, and drags his carcass up out of the convenience store like a moth to the flame. Blanket wrapped around him, he shuffles his way out the front door, peering through the twilight until he catches sight of a guy who looks like should be on WWE.
"Did you find that here?"
No hello, no who the hell are you. People have been popping up all over; that's pedestrian by now. But finding some kind of way to avoid draining his iPod down is in Dixon's top 5 priorities.