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Post by Caine Fang on Apr 7, 2011 18:57:37 GMT -5
Caine dipped his head in response to the man. If all that he had to do to earn his keep here was help keep the place picked up a little bit then he was certain he could assist. He smirked slightly and replied in his deep voice, "I can't promise you I'll be good at doing the dishes or laundry or anything - no opposable thumbs, you know - but I'll do what I can." Already the canine, who usually trusted no one, was beginning to feel at home. The man was constantly occupied with other thoughts that the dog could not read, yet he still included Caine and asked his opinion on certain matters. This was a man that Caine could respect. He was honored for the invitation to stay in his home, and Caine would be certain that he didn't break this man's apparent trust of him.
With nothing better to do, Caine watched him with spacy eyes as the man finished his meal - most of it, anyways - and set the plate beside Caine's. With nothing better to do, Caine kept his glistening eyes on the man, watching him as he went about his night as though Caine weren't here. That was fine with Caine; he'd hate to be a nuisance to the man. He seemed to be so distracted, as though he had many things to worry about. The fact that he received memories of the Heartless he killed probably had a lot to do with it, but certainly that wasn't all. There had to be something more. Still, Caine remembered not to pry. This man had opened up his home to this loner, and perhaps, in time, the man would decide to open up his heart to Caine as well - figuratively speaking.
The man took some pills that Caine couldn't identify, and then he looked at the dog standing near him. There was a smile on his face, and the question he asked was true. "I mean, if us worldless can't look out for each other, who else will?" It was a good point. Caine hadn't thought of himself as a dog who needed to be looked out for - not in the good, caring way, anyways -, but this man had already begun to open his eyes, if only a little. Caine would not change his ways entirely, but he would ensure that this man could trust him as Caine already trusted the man. The man had moved over to the bed by the time Caine's attention had returned to reality. Caine felt the urge to follow him, but he resisted. That was what domestic canines did, and as much as he was acting like one, he wasn't one. He was a Fang. He was a mercenary. He just happened to be a mercenary who willingly walked into a strange man's home and agreed to stay there.
Instead, Caine stepped only a bit closer to the man and laid down on his side against the wall, his golden gaze still fixed on him as he wrote in a journal. It was quiet for many minutes, and it seemed as though the man had forgotten him. Caine had just laid his head down on his paws when the man looked up and spoke again. Caine's ear perked up and he lifted his head once more to stare evenly at him as he apologized for his lack of attention, and before Caine could wave him off and insist he behave as he normally would, the man began to suggest a few things that the canine could do to amuse himself. He suggested television - most of which the man had never watched, apparently - or reading through logs of Heartless. Caine was reminded that he was not a particularly good reader, so the second option was out, and by now the food was beginning to settle in Caine's stomach and he grew tired.
He shook his head as the man began to search through the disastrous house for the remote for the television, and he insisted, "Don't worry about me. I'm a dog. I can get my kicks just by rolling on my back and flailing my legs in the air. Right?" He shrugged. He sure as hell wouldn't get his kicks that way, but he could if he wanted to. "If I get especially bored I could always do some cleaning. As of now, however, I believe you have writing that you'd like to be doing, and I'm particularly fond of just laying around for a while after a meal. Which I thank you for, by the way. It was delicious."
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ooc ;; suggestions for the path of this thread, perhaps they can nap and we can continue as if it were morning. If you wish. :3 [/blockquote]
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Post by Micheal Coen on Apr 8, 2011 23:22:28 GMT -5
Micheal sat back down on the edge of his bed and chewed on his lip. "It's not that, it's the fact that I should be a better host. I know my social skills are slipping. I am so focused on this quest that I am losing part of myself." Micheal said with a sigh.
I tell you not to focus on it so much. It will consume you, and then who will talk to me?
"Honestly I think I am the one that should be thanking you. I think if I had continued like this I would just give up in despair and throw my life away to the Darkness." He said shaking his head. "Maybe I should just face my life as it is, but I can't give up my hope and slowly it's driving me over the edge."
He leaned over and picked up the journal he had been writing in. "These are my notes and theories. the little pieces I have managed to put together about the worlds.I've learned that they normally aren't connected naturally. Something changed that. I'm not sure what exactly, but I know it's old, at least the first time was." He said placing the book down. "But what does that mean, will discovering this secret help me in any way? Or will it just make me as lost as I am now." He said leaning back.
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(OOC: Seems like a decent idea, I have something that happens at night, but not sure I want to use it yet. depends how long I want to drag out the fall.)
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Post by Caine Fang on Apr 9, 2011 4:16:03 GMT -5
Caine watched the man as he sat once more on the edge of his bed once more, his face shaded by his long hair as he lost himself in thought once more. What is it that he can think so much about? Caine wondered silently, staring at him as he let out a sigh and explained the cause for him asking his earlier question. He wasn't really interested in amusing Caine - that wasn't the complete reason for why he had asked. No, the man had asked because he felt that he was being a bad host by not at least attempting to tend to his guest. Caine felt that he had catered to his whims rather well, actually, but the man continued. He insisted that his social skills were slipping. Now, that Caine could see. The man was always distracted with some thought or another. It made him seem only a tad inattentive, or just spacy. The man had been focusing on this quest for so long that he didn't have time to talk to anyone or make friends anymore, it seemed. Caine knew what that was like.
The man came back with a surprising remark: "I think I am the one that should be thanking you." In Caine's business, no one ever bothered with pleasantries and good manners. They never said please, thank you, and you're welcome. They basically just said "Kill this guy, get this payment." That was all good and well when it boiled down to it, but it wasn't real conversation. All that Caine ever got to do was go from one appointment to the next, get the details on his next victim, plot it out, overpower his helpless mark, and then go back to claim his reward, and then he got to do it all again until it pleased him to sleep. Of course, being a canine, it always pleased him to sleep. But that was a matter for another day. Caine stared at the man's face as he explained why he'd expressed gratefulness towards an admitted murderer. The man was afraid of giving his life up to the Darkness. And why shouldn't he be? Caine was a Fang; he was always charging headfirst into situations that were often bigger than his entire family history, but even death wasn't something he could face.
The man then shook his head. Caine stood and wandered closer, resting his chin on the bed while continuing to stare at the man. He said softly that perhaps he should give up because he can't let go of his hope. The final words even Caine, who knew so little about the man, could tell were true. His hope was making him lose the battle for sanity. Caine wondered what it was like for someone to lose their sanity. Caine could swear that he was close - sometimes it seemed as though he couldn't control how violent he was when he was on a mission. His mother, Luka, had lost her mind. She'd been such a cold, calculating bitch in her life, and then one day she'd woken up and she'd just snapped. They shot her right on the spot, and Caine and his bastard brother Xanthe were left under their sadistic father's rule. Caine didn't want to lose his sanity. He didn't want to go over the edge. Perhaps he and this man could help one another. The hope was small, but perhaps the small hope was worth hoping. If the worldless couldn't look after each other, then who would?
Caine lifted his chin and watched a bit more intently as the man pick up his journal entires again and explained what they were. They were just notes and theories. Things he'd noticed as he'd gona on with his adventures. He noticed people, and he noticed things, and he noticed the worlds themselves. They weren't connected. Not originally. Not naturally. Something connected them. Even Caine was intrigued by this. What was that something, and why was it there? He had heard the stories of all the worlds and why they were the way that they were. The Door, whatever that was, had opened, and somehow all the worlds had been connected. Well, most of them. Some kids fixed it, and now it was broken again and the worlds were being thrust back into chaos. The man glanced over his book before setting it down again. He looked exhausted. He wondered if, once he learned the secret that tied all the worlds together, he would be just as lost as he was before, or even moreso.
Caine didn't have the answer.
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ooc ;; you can choose when the night comes along. I'm gonna just follow your lead for this one. If you need to in these next couple posts, you can control Caine and make him go to sleep. Whatever works best for you. [/blockquote]
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Post by Micheal Coen on Apr 10, 2011 8:03:34 GMT -5
Micheal sighed as he chewed it over again. He picked up the book and added in more data. "I can't help it though, I am still a scientist."
He leaned back as he went over his notes and the night continued to pass. In time he sat the book down once again and looked down to see Caine had fallen asleep.
"I suppose if he will guard us, it is ok." A slightly different voice said.
"Good to see you've relented. It's hard enough talking to myself when you constantly disagree with me." Micheal said.
"Your the one who won't see reason." The voice said.
"I respect that you are likely my id, but please stop talking like that." Micheal said.
"Whatever, it's time to sleep. I hope we have interesting dreams."
"As long as it's not that nightmare." Micheal said as he changed to his night cloths, his hand resting on the all black patch of his left shoulder. It was spreading, slowly traveling down his arm. He shook his head and lay down in the bed. He brought the covers up and leaned over to turn off the lights.
He should probably be concerned about the second voice, but he had always talked with himself before, now the voice would just surprise him. He closed his eyes and drifted to sleep, his mind filling with visions of her and the monsters.
Morning came suddenly and Micheal lazily opened one eye to see the light filling the room around him. He had kicked the blanket off of him and was sleeping on his stomach. He hadn't thought to hide the black patch from Caine and it was now clearly visible.
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Post by Caine Fang on Apr 10, 2011 16:48:33 GMT -5
Caine once more set his chin down on the bed, watching the man, as he chewed at his lip once more. This thought amused the pit's tired mind; he couldn't chew on his lip. He had no muscle control in the floppy jowls of his, save for what little was connected to the muscle of the bridge of his nose to bare his teeth as a warning. A lot of the talents humans held were amusing or interesting to Caine, such as their aposable thumbs and the way they could chew their lip and how they could walk on two feet without a tail to balance them. The behaviors of human beings were just peculiar. The man picked up his book and began to write, adding in more facts and data wherever it seemed to fit on the page. "I can't help it, though," the man said as Caine stepped away from the bed, laying out over the floor beside the man, "I am still a scientist."
Caine spoke no other words to this man; his head lay against the cold floor and his legs were stretched out ahead of him, muscles relaxing as his body digested the food he'd been so graciously given and his mind processed everything he'd gone through this lovely evening. This man had been ridiculously kind in allowing Caine to stay here, even after he'd admitted to being a trained, dangerous killer. Perhaps the man didn't believe him. Some of Caine's prior victims hadn't believed that he could be capable of murdering a human so much larger than he, but there was incredible power hidden in that thick, muscle-packed body of his. They learned not to doubt his prowess very quickly, but the lesson would not stick for long; they wouldn't have time to rectify their mistake. By the time they learned, they were already dead.
Caine felt his eyes beginning to flicker shut. He fought off the weariness. The man was still awake, and the lights were still on. The pages, every once in a while, flicked as the man looked through his past journal entries. The steady sound of the man's every breath was comforting to Caine; it was like a lullaby that had no tune, just a steadiness. Before Caine could consider the day any further, he had drifted to sleep and his golden eyes lay dormant beneath pale brown fur. It was long after Caine had drifted off that, finally, the man finished his work and shut the book, allowing himself to go to sleep as well. In the darkness of the hotel room Caine dreamed at last. His own dreams were violent and hateful; he dreamed of returning home when King Fang was old and frail and when that son of a bitch Xanthe had gotten too cocky for his own good.
Caine had dreamed this dream before. It was something he hated as much as he loved. He would return to Lucino Bay in a whirlwind of fame and grandeur. All the followers of the leaders of Downtown bowed before him and begged him to return to his place, to claim what should have been his. He did as his worshipers pleased; he would attack his helpless father, killing him swiftly, and then it came to Xanthe. There was the final battle, the battle that would decide the fate of all species and breeds in Lucino Bay. Xanthe would return to find Caine's paws stained with father's blood, and they'd both immerse themselves in a bloodbath of their brother. They'd fight, tooth and claw, anger, hate, for love and passion and vengeance, and then Caine would emerge with his brother brutally battered; Caine had him pinned. He could end this all, end the nightmare forever. And yet... Caine could never see the end.
Caine's eyes shot open as the sun just barely peeked over the horizon. Since Caine had been a puppy he had been forced to awaken at young, unreasonable hours. It was in his nature now. He lifted his head off the floor, golden eyes glistening as he took in the surroundings which overnight he had forgotten. It took him a moment to realize that he was laying on the floor of the man's hotel room, his back pressed against the bed frame. He sat up, arching his back and holding back a yawn that would doubtlessly result in a high-pitched whine. He'd never really figured out how to avoid that. The canine stood, stretching all down the entire length of his body and finishing with a very gentle wag of his tail. He looked at the bed where the man lay. He was laying on his belly, all the sheets kicked off to one side of the bed, head turned away from Caine. Then, something else caught Caine's eye. At first, he narrowed his vision, thinking that perhaps it was just some odd lighting in the room causing this, but it was not so.
Caine blinked his intense eyes, gazing at it. There was a patch of black all along the man's shoulder. The canine didn't know what to make of it, and then a suspicion rose up in his head. The man said that he gathers memories from the Heartless... what if this is some strange side effect of that whole deal? Caine reared back and jumped up onto the bed quickly, stepping around so that he would appear in the man's field of view. He blinked, lowering his head to stare into the one open eye of the man who was housing him. "I hate to pry," he began in his low, cautious voice, "but do you care to explain what that blackness is that seems to be taking you over?" [/blockquote]
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Post by Micheal Coen on Apr 11, 2011 16:34:06 GMT -5
Micheal blinked slightly and shook his head. "I have no idea what it is." He said as he sat up and stretched. "No one's been able to tell me what it is exactly." He stood up and looked around for a shirt. He found one sticking out of a dresser. He grabbed it and slid it over his head.
"What I do know is that it's not hurting me and is slight;y more damage resistant then normal flesh." He said as he turned to use the restroom. "They also believe it is the source of my Darkness based abilities, an after affect of the sword." He said as he disappeared behind the door of the lavatory. He returned quickly with a frown. "It is of concern to me as well."
It is life, a constant downward spiral with a few good distractions.
Your not helping any.
Excuse me, they are your thoughts.
He turned and went to the refrigerator, trying to avoid the inevitable conclusion of that train of thought. "Are you hungry, cause I can make some breakfast for us." He said studying the fridge intently.
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Post by Caine Fang on Apr 11, 2011 20:36:07 GMT -5
Caine wasn't normally the dog to hop up on a bed, or any furniture, for that matter, unless he had a perfectly good reason, such as thieving for his own good or when he was on a mission. This, he decided, was a worthy enough time to invade the man's space. His paws weren't dirty anyways; he could do no damage to the sheets. The dog loomed over the man as he opened both eyes, blinking for a moment and waking fully. Caine remained stationary, unfazed by the man's quiet thoughtfulness. Finally the man answered, sitting up as he did so. So he didn't know what it was. Well, that made two of them. No one could figure out what it was that was so peculiarly staining this man's skin. The man stood, leaving Caine alone on the bed, slightly skeptical of the man's statement. He looked for a shirt and yanked one out of a drawer, pulling it on swiftly. The man continued, saying that it did no harm to him, and that it seemed tougher than skin - like leather, it seemed, to Caine.
The man moved towards the restroom, and it was only then that Caine allowed himself to move, lunging off the bed and then striding slowly into the main room, finally allowing a yawn to escape him. That had been an odd first thing to see when he'd woken up. Who all had the man talked to about it? Who all had seen his strange marking that made Caine both suspicious and curious? What theories had they suggested? The man, himself, stated that they thought it may be the source of his Darkness based abilities - he used Darkness as a weapon when he had lost so much to the Dark? - and he suggested that it might be an after-effect of the strange sword that he'd been wielding. The man disappeared into the restroom and Caine glanced to the window; he wished to go outside. He was a dog, after all; however, he would wait until later in the morning, when the man wasn't so occupied with other things such as waking up and explaining his peculiar skin condition. Caine sat on the floor of the kitchen just as the man emerged, looking a bit more awake, though now a tad more concerned.
The blackness that had taken over a good portion of his skin worried him as well. Well, as long as he wasn't idle about his concerns for it then Caine had nothing to fear. The man stepped into the kitchen as well, walking towards the refrigerator and then addressing Caine, questioning if he'd like breakfast. The dog thought about it for a moment before shaking his head. "No, thank you. I only eat lunch and dinner. Keeps some fat on me, y'know? Can't be intimidating if I'm skin and bones. You ought to eat though, eh, scrawny?" The canine chuckled softly with amusement, and then he lifted his hind foot, tilting his head and kicking fiercely at his ear. The tip of it had gone numb for a moment. He hoped to get the blood flow going again. How obnoxious. Caine looked up at the man, wondering how he planned on spending his day. If he wished to leave, Caine would likely go steal some food and come back to pick up the man's room. [/blockquote]
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Post by Micheal Coen on Apr 19, 2011 19:18:29 GMT -5
"Amusing to me that you would keep body weight by not eating." He said with a smile as he removed a few eggs and a strip of ham. "Of course I understand why. As to my weight, you should try working in the desert. I assure you, it will have an impact on your weight as well." He said smiling. He so rarely had anything to smile for anymore, and it felt like he hadn't laughed in months. Had it really only been 3 months?
Time flies when you run only on focus and determination on one task. I keep telling you to slow down and enjoy the small things, before you burn your short candle away.
"Not now." Micheal shard sharply to himself. "It's to early in the morning." He caught himself when he look to Caine and chuckled nervously. "Sorry a habit from college, I find talking to myself helps me solve problems easier, and apparently I can get rather animate in my self discussions. A few of my teachers thought I had MPD." He said with a slight chuckle. Would the dog buy it, would he believe the ruse, or more importantly would he even care.
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Post by Caine Fang on Apr 19, 2011 22:21:11 GMT -5
Caine smirked slightly at the man's comment. So it was amusing that he'd keep weight. He chuckled. "The digestive system is very complex; breakfast has been proven to kickstart your metabolism, which helps your body to use up the calories and break down fats faster. If you don't eat breakfast then your metabolism gets a slow start and the fats store up. I never know the next time I'll be able to eat, so I need to have a bit of meat on my bones for my body to use up if I end up starving." Of course, it was after Caine had spoke that the man commented that he knew why you gained weight by not eating. The amusement slipped slightly from Caine's face; though a bit of a thorn in his side that his knowledge had been so useless to the man, he was still pleased that he knew enough about the whole deal.
The man then made a slight comment about how much being in the desert could affect you. Caine's eyebrow lifted curiously, but it was clearly a story for another time. It was irrelevant information, anyways. Unnecessary. He'd live without knowing the origin of this man's comment. Most likely, the man was so scrawny (in Caine's own eyes) because of some long experience hanging out in the desert. Well, that was fine by Caine; the man could do what he please, but the canine was far from a hot-weather dog. Sure, he could live in it, but God, he'd hate it with a burning passion. The man smiled, and for a second it seemed as though the man were distracted by yet another thought. This time, however, it was different; the man spoke to himself, spoke in reply to his thoughts.
Caine kept his ears perked. "Not now," the man said, as though someone had spoken to him, "it's too early in the morning." No voice was heard by the canine, and his suspicions once more flared, but he held his tongue. The man had his secrets, and Caine had his. The man chuckled nervously as he realized what he'd been doing, and he offered some short story about what his teachers had thought of him when he was young. Caine did not reply immediately; he processed it. He was a thinker. A reader. He interpreted the man's body language and speech - that nervous chuckle wasn't suspicious at all - and determined, though not aloud, that the man was lying. But Caine understood secrets. He played along with the story, and he was a much better actor. "I can't say I've ever gotten in an animate conversation with myself; I mostly just note things aloud." [/blockquote]
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Post by Micheal Coen on Apr 25, 2011 20:14:25 GMT -5
"It's a talent." Micheal said with a shake of his head. "Just have to look at things differently and figure out what you would say." He turned to cook the breakfast he had set aside.
Blew it there champ. I'm sure he thinks your fin now. Screaming at me first thing in the morning. You have hot sauce right?
Micheal picked up a bottle of hot sauce slightly annoyed.
Just checking.
"Caine, what are your plans today?" He asked as he flipped over the ham steak and turned to the eggs. He moved swiftly through his cooking routine as he listened to what the dog had to say
Don't forget the Toast.
Micheal nodded as he turned around and got out two slices of bread and put them in the toaster. He moved back to the stove and slid the eggs onto a waiting plate and finished cooking the ham. He dropped it on the plate as well when it was done. He moved over and fetched a glass to fill with orange juice. Finally he grabbed the toast and buttered it. His cooking completed he took the whole meal, and the hot sauce bottle over to the small table.
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Post by Caine Fang on Apr 27, 2011 18:21:27 GMT -5
From his seat on the floor, Caine chuckled softly, his piercing golden eyes continuing their facade; the dog did not believe the man's story. The man had been murmuring to himself when Caine had spotted him, even, and from then it had gotten more apparent and there had been more evidence that this man knew more than he would allow himself to speak to a talking dog who he didn't know in the slightest. Caine had revealed more to this man last night than he'd revealed to any human being throughout his entire life; even his owner knew next to nothing about him. This man was clearly not so trusting; Caine knew that it wasn't just the way the man was. This one secret that he would not tell Caine was the one secret keeping him from telling Caine. Still, Caine would not pry; he was a mercenary. He could kill and gather information from any source he chose to. He would not, however, force the information from this man; he was the only friend he had made in nearly his entire life, save for Shazi and Xanthe's mate, Siyamak... but he stood and chance with neither.
Caine laughed heartily as the man explained that it was a talent, and went on to say how it was that he could go on carrying a conversation with himself in which no one could hear the other side being expressed. This did not interest Caine; he knew how to talk to himself. Sometimes he was the only one who would listen anyways. What did interest Caine, however, was that the two could carry on a lie for a fair amount of time, and neither of them seemed near to cracking from this falsity. Fine. The show must go on; he knew how it was. He was a skillful liar. When the time came, he was sure that the man would tell him the truth. He replied in his rumbling voice, "Ah. That seems a very intelligent way to work through a problem, no? Personally, if I have a problem, I just get aggressive, but, you know... that's the Fang thing." He shrugged, a ruminative look spreading over his face, but he didn't let himself get carried away with his memories. There was nothing valuable in reminiscing. The man then turned back to prepare the meal which he had set aside, and Caine stood at his full height from the floor, beginning to pace about the kitchen for no reason other than to amuse himself.
He paid no mind to the rituals and steps and whatnot that the man went to in order to have a decent breakfast; he continued to pace, one long ruddy limb in front of the other, before he turned his powerful body to pace back the way he had come. Though it was a slightly cramped space, it was enough space for him to stretch his muscular body in any way he so desired, and the more limber he was the more ready he was to spring into action in any way that a situation deemed necessary, whether it be fight or flight. Though Caine hated the thought of backing down from a fight, he knew that he was still the little brother; he was smaller and less brutal with strength than Xanthe, but what Caine had that Xanthe did not was a lust for revenge. Caine wanted to smear Xanthe's blood all over the world! Someday he'd regret scorning his brother... The red pit bull was torn from his thoughts as the man's voice rang out into the kitchen, and Caine stopped his pacing and looked at the man, processing the question he had asked. For a moment, Caine's tail wagged, only slightly, and then it was still again.
"Caine, what are your plans today?" The question was a bit odd, and slightly out of the blue, but Caine had nothing on his agenda, and the man was entitled to his queries. Caine sat again, front paws directly between his hind ones, and his face wrinkled a little as his eyebrows furrowed thoughtfully. What exactly could he do, save for the idea that had skimmed his mind only a minute or two ago? He shrugged. "Well. I have to admit, Traverse Town offers very little to me in terms of amusement, save for petty thievery and scaring grown men into wetting their pants." He snickered a little, a devious glow in his blazing eyes, and then he shook his head, to rid himself of the thought. As he began to finish his thought, the man's meal was complete, toast and all, and he settled himself at the table. "All I was considering doing was wandering the Town a little bit and coming back here to clean up some. What about you?" The dog was a little bit surprised; he was genuinely curious about the man's own agenda. Perhaps something would catch Caine's interest and give him a little insight into the man's life. [/blockquote]
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