old fashioned hello

The streets were the furthest thing from immaculate in these parts.

The blond would know it the best.

The roaring of vehicles and sounds of sirens choked the city highways, while smoke kissed the hazy sundown air. The pink and purple sky was perhaps one of the most forgiving sights in the gray neighborhood.

A beep of a cellphone was to contribute its own melody.

"WHERE ARE U"

A gnash of fangs as the lion mutt mouthed curses under his breath, padded paws quick to reply.

"67 on King ... See you in 30, dont forget those cords this time . And remember. your voice cracks once, your skull does 12 times over ;-)"

With a complimentary sigh and tap of his phone, he shoved it in his pockets. Great, he still had to shower... Especially after his oily "appointment" today. It never took too much for the male to get greased up from the things, revving his old souped up, rimmed beast with wheels. He grinned, brushing a careless paw over his winnings in his studded pocket. So nice, so much extra cash these days... He couldn't say the same for other beings, shooting a glare at an approaching passerby quite literally wearing rags. Whatever... Enough time to hit the liquor store, he supposed. If he was quick enough, he'd be able to get whatever he needed without any trouble with gangs. Not that that was normally an issue for him, as he knew where to hit, to put it lightly. But strength was always in numbers.

A smirk. Oh, yes - numbers were the importance of life. At least, that's what his wallet told him.

Leather steps would cease and his round ears would raise in alertness, swiveling around back and forth to catch the sound he just caught. Posture straightening naturally, he mumbled under his breath as he felt his fur began to bristle on his thick tails. Drawing his trusted blade, his holographic dragon wings would flutter - a hint of aggression as his lip peeled back into a threatening grin.

But the towering fiend would let a canine snarl rip through the air, as he'd blend into the shadows. At least, well, he thought he was.

Icy blue eyes illuminated as the larger male caressed his jaws with his tongue. He waited til he caught the attention of the blond smaller guy, lunging forward in a fearsome lumber. Snapping his jaws to accent his currently sharp features, he grinned wide.

The blond male was no fool though. Something about this was just... Too damn familiar. Gate naturally softening, he lowered his knife - but before he could go further -

CRACK!!

"12 k to Dogma!" Howled the black beast, large curled tail wagging furiously as he lent a paw to his fallen counterpart. "'Dus, my bitch, how's life been treatin' you?!"
God, it stung... Is that really him? Man. Remember who you pick on in grade school. Regret it, too.
"Yeah. 12 k to you, scuzbucket," the lion mutt known as Dusty would answer, swiping his tongue across a patch of blood that had trailed down his lip from the festering black eye and bitten tongue. He couldn't falter a smile around the big oaf in front of him though. Aside from Patch now, Dogma was one of his only faithful friends. Especially after...
Dusty raised a brow to the taller. "You're a pizza delivery guy now? What, you make the pizza sauce outta kitty blood like mine?" He gave a pained laugh, and Dogma gave him an encouraging smack across his back with a bellowing laugh.
"'Course! Why'd ya think I'd come 'n' reap ya like some kinda molecule?"
"Molasses?"
"Yeah! That. C'mon, 'Dus, y'can't give this ol' static box a high school edge'," woofed the taller, checking the box of his dinner he had carefully placed atop a nearby dumpster. Dusty only eyed him, thoughtfulness tugging his eyelids. "Sure, scuz." Straightening himself out, he fished a fair amount of greens out of his swollen pocket. "Deal's a deal. You got me this time. Took you long enough, y'know."
Sharp ears tugged towards the direction of his pal, eyes wide... Then his oversized tail would wag effortlessly, nearly knocking over a trash can as he trotted over to him, fanged grin plastered across his jaws. "Hey! Thought you'd forget about that, hahahah! You bastard, which loot bag'd ya pull that outta?" He chimed, resting a paw against the wall. Dogma was quite cash poor at the moment, so even seeing a dollar was like the coming of Christ.
"Hahah, thought I'd personally play the 'forgot' game myself," Dusty laughed, slapping the bills atop the mutt's box of pizza. "You're too smart for that though, aren'tcha big guy?"
"So really, where'd ya get it? Wanna get myself somethin' like that 'round this ribbed out junction," growled Dogma, implying that the bustling city had no signs of cash flow... Which wasn't true, as Dusty himself was a bank.

"This is Patch's bet, not mine. He'll be whining and fightin' me over this, so you hang tight to it. Don't go blow it at Boneified's, okay? Can't be your personal check," teased Dusty, offering a swish of his tail in amusement.
"Still do that band stuff, 'Dus? Hahahah! Ya' a genius! Count me the hell out though, man, til ya got somethin', uhh.. More my speed," snorted Dogma with a laugh, now rubbing the bloodied paw off on his uniform.
"Hah, okay, scuz. I got a show to catch now though at 9 here," Dusty would slide underneath his old friend's arm, heading off towards his penthouse. "Wanna come? I know you're not busy. Show 'em this, you'll get backstage with me and I'll get us drinks," he spoke, tossing a pool player's card receipt with his signature on it. Dogma was sure to clumsily catch it, mulling it over for a second before he nodded in the direction of his pal. "Sure thing, hairspray!" He barked, cheer in his tone. "See ya then."

"Wait, didn't mess up ya' face too bad, right?"
"You'd be amazed at what makeup can do, bud."