These are desperate times [[Sacha]]

[howl]

Billy's biggest problem wasn't that he didn't have a family nor a safe place to sleep at night.
He had early on come to terms with the fact that he was homeless, and he didn't really mind sleeping on the ground or in abandoned, drafty buildings.
Nor did his lack of shoes and decent clothes bother him all that much. The soles of his feet were thick after a life without the thick protection on shoes, and the shirt and pants he owned were perfectly all right.

No, what bothered Billy the most was the constant hunger. The gnawing sensation in his gut that at times had him curled up in deserted allies, unable to move as he sobbed pathetically, waiting for the worst of the hunger pains to pass.
And as desperate times called for desperate measures, one could find Billy out on Mockingbird Street, lurking in the shadows as he tried to remain unseen by the costumers of the tavern across the street.

Bright blue eyes followed drunken costumers, as they stumbled out of the doors, laughing and talking loudly.
They were nearly as bad off as him. Thin bodies, ragged clothes and calloused hands...Those were the poor. Those who struggled to remain above the surface.
Usually, he tended to avoid them. They were nearly in the same position that he was, and though he constantly needed to remind himself that he didn't care, he knew he'd feel a tremendous amount of guilt for kicking on someone that was already down for the count.

Poor people shouldn't steal from poor people...Especially not when there were rich folks around..Now, those rich folks...They could manage to lose a few pounds.
But there were no rich folks around. Only poor sods that had decided to spend their last coins on some alcohol to warm their bellies with.
Drunk people were especially careless with left over money,that could potentially feed a starving lad such as Billy himself.
So there he was. Lurking outside the tavern, waiting for the perfect target.

Brushing his bony fingers through his slightly greasy, thick hair, he wondered if every bloody sod in the club had decided to leave with friends that night.
He needed a loner. Someone who'd stumble their way out into the dark, unable to defend themselves as he dove upon them, stealing whatever their pockets might hold.

[SACHA ANTOINE LEROUX]

[style=font-family: times; font-size: 12px; letter-spacing: 1px; text-transform: lowercase; color: #989898; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;]450 WORDS FOR WILLIAM drunk sacha makes an appearance finally! woo! DREAM [/style]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,450,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: #6d6d6d;] [style=padding: 10px; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; font-size: 10px; height: 475px; overflow: auto; color: #1e1e1e;]It was the week before the full moon which meant that not only was Sacha growing tired and weak with worry, but he was also on edge and incredibly snippy with other people. He'd closed shop early and stopped by his home to change into something more suitable- something he could blend into the unwashed masses with. Of course, there was one thing he couldn't fake, and that was the fact that he looked (and smelled) clean. In the tavern, no one really cared who you were or what you wanted as long as you had coin and were willing to pay. Fights were common, though usually over a girl or some unsettled debt that had nothing to do with the night's drinking activities. Sacha found that he hadn't really touched his cheap beer. He was nursing a whiskey bottle quite heavily with a few sips from his flask of absinthe. Despite the fact his father did have the funds to cover such drinking habits, he didn't want to draw attention to himself or give his father any need for concern. Absinthe was expensive, but whiskey was cheap and did the job- perhaps not as well, but it was good for a night of heavy drinking. His eyes were glazed over as he started at the wall. He could feel the hum and pleasant buzzing of the alcohol all around him, but he had drank far too much, far too often, to really be drunk. He couldn't recall the last time he was able to black out and sleep peacefully. His body had built up somewhat of a resistance to it. Perhaps, if he stopped drinking for some time, the threshold would lower once more, but he couldn't be bothered with that, not when he wanted to numb the world around him. Unfortunately, it was getting late, and he didn't want to be caught on this side of London in the wee hours of the morning. Not that he was ashamed, but he did fear getting mugged. Though what was on his person aside from his alcohol and a few pennies? He never brought any coin of substance with him to the tavern- never when he was out of the west end. Too many pickpockets and dishonest people. Sacha left the tavern in a relatively good mood and shoved his hands into his pockets. It was freezing, and he hadn't brought his heavy coat. He may have regretted that decision, but right now, he only had one thing on his mind: he wanted to go home and try to sleep before the effects of the alcohol wore off. [/style]

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[howl]

Shaking some greasy hair out of his face, Billy sighed, and wrapped his skinny arms around himself in a attempt to warm himself up. Standing still for such a long time had been a poor decision, but it was necessary unless he wanted to draw attention to himself.
Just as he was starting to wonder if he had done something particularly bad to get on lady lucks bad side, a young man stepped out of the tavern. Alone.
Billy visibly perked up, his pale blue eyes following the stranger as the man made his way down the street.
No one followed him. No one called out for him to 'wait up'. It seemed as if this was what Billy had been waiting for.
And while he hoped the man hadn't spent all of his money on alcohol, he figured that even if that was the case, the coat the man wore would be a nice price instead.
It didn't seem thick enough to ward of the chill in the air...But it was fancier than anything Billy had every owned.
Which made it a desirable price indeed.
Slinking out of the shadows of the building he had been leaning against, he scurried after the man, keeping a fair distance in case the stranger felt he was being followed.
Glancing over his thin shoulder, he made sure that there were no other souls lurking about in the shadows or heading their way, before he quickened his step and soon came to walk only a few paces after the young stranger.
Something was off about him.
Billy wrinkled his nose, and cocked his head slightly to the side.
The bloody bastard was clean.
Poor people weren't that clean, were they?
But what did it matter, really?
The man stank of alcohol, and that was good enough for Billy.
Hopefully he'd be unable to comprehend what was happening before it was already over.
"Had a nice night, did yeh mister?" He grunted, grasping a handful of the material of the mans coat, and quickly stuffing his hands, numb from the cold, into the pockets, searching for coins and jewelry...Perhaps a watch that wasn't completely useless?

[SACHA ANTOINE LEROUX]

[style=font-family: times; font-size: 12px; letter-spacing: 1px; text-transform: lowercase; color: #989898; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;]415 WORDS FOR WILLIAM XD and so it begins. DREAM [/style]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,450,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: #6d6d6d;] [style=padding: 10px; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; font-size: 10px; height: 475px; overflow: auto; color: #1e1e1e;]All Sacha ever carried in his pockets, really, He had his coin purse, and that was all, and even then it only carried a few pennies. It would feed a starving person for a few days a least- he was amazed to see the prices on the East Side of town. After all, he hadn't grown up in poverty, yet he saw where he could easily end up. If it wasn't for his family, he would be one of them- he had no important skills, he was an artist, and he was often sickly. Of course, not only was he emotionally weak and physically exhausted during the week of the full moon, he was also incredibly on edge. He barely noticed the other boy walk up towards him- after all, what was one more person on the streets of London. However, he did notice when his coat was grabbed. He was startled and taken aback, and he yelled in surprise, trying to jerk himself away. Of course, after the flight response came the violent response. He began to shout and curse in French, as he often reverted to his native tongue when he had been drinking. He struck out at the boy with the intent of hitting him over the head. Perhaps he should really rethink his plan next time. There was a reason that he always preferred to drink alone, and now he had a legitimate reason. In a more sober state, he would have more fully realized how dire the situation was- not for him, but for this boy. It was an incredibly sad thing that any of London's citizens had to go without warmth and food. But he didn't believe pick-pocketing and stealing was necessarily going to get anyone anywhere either. No, it would just put them in harm's way, and right now, Sacha was furious and drunk which meant he would not easily calm down. "There is nothing nice about it!" he shouted, the first thing he had said in English. They were far enough from the pub for him not to cause a real scene, and yet if anyone were to pass by... no, no one would care. This sort of thing happened far too often. [/style]

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[howl]

Billy's bony hand kept a firm grip on the material of the coat, hindering the man from ripping it out of his grasp. If he let go, the man might find the time to turn and run away, and while Billy had the advantage of being sober, he wasn't quite sure what he would do if the man managed to gain the pity of others who might take the time to teach a thief a lesson or two. Not that mugging was rare in these parts. It happened even during the days. Beatings were even dealt out to those who had done nothing more than to step into the path of the wrong person. The poverty and the desperation made people act out in ways he had rarely seen them do in central London. There, everyone seemed to always act with dignity and common sense. In the eat end, people were starting to act more and more barbaric with each day that passed.

The man began to curse in another language, but Billy took no heed, and despite the mans protests, kept rummaging through his pockets. The lack of attention to the mans violent outburst made him unaware of hand coming towards his head before it was too late.
With a grunt, he briefly let go of the coat to put a hand to his aching head, blue eyes gazing at the man as if he couldn't believe he had just had the nerve to hit him like that.
"Oh no? A warm drink, some nice clothes and...Well, it looks like you've even had a bath recently? Isn't that nice?" He growled, latching on to the coat again and aiming a kick at the strangers knees while he was at it, hoping to bring the man down.
"Just give me my bloody money and I won't hurt you too badly, yeh?!" He bared his teeth at the man in a somewhat animalistic way, his teeth yellow and half of his right canine tooth missing.
Although the older male had the advantage of height and weight, Billy was certain that he could bring him down. He was a bloody street-rat, and fought daily with those in the same situations. Mostly over food. Sometimes over dropped pennies or stolen clothes.
Growling, he aimed another kick at the man, while still pulling viciously at the coat, which looked ready to tear at any moment.

[SACHA ANTOINE LEROUX]

[style=font-family: times; font-size: 12px; letter-spacing: 1px; text-transform: lowercase; color: #989898; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;]415 WORDS FOR WILLIAM XD and so it begins. DREAM [/style]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,450,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: #6d6d6d;] [style=padding: 10px; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; font-size: 10px; height: 475px; overflow: auto; color: #1e1e1e;]It seemed as if his attacker wasn't giving up that easily. He stumbled as he was kicked, his reflexes slightly impaired. Of course, being a werewolf did have its advantages on the rare occasion (balance and reflexes being two of them), but due to his alcohol intake, they were much slower than normal, and he cursed his motor ability even though his mind was still quite alert. "At least begging has some honor with it! I don't HAVE anything, you idiot!" But as the coat started to rip, so did his change purse fall out. Inside were three pennies- not much to him, but it would be a lot to a poor person, he knew. Of course, now it was entirely the principle of the matter. He would have been charitable if approached asking for a donation that time of hour with the alcohol in his system. But, he did not at all respond kindly to violence and threats. He laughed at the words 'Won't hurt you too badly'. As if a human could hurt him worse than he hurt himself. As if any pain could match that when he turned into the blasphemous form. It took him a few moments to realize that he was physically laughing- it wasn't just in his head. He was able to keep his balance when kicked again, but his coat split and he growled in distaste. "Oh yes, smart idea, boy. Ruin it so neither one of us can use it." he snarled, but he didn't feel like fighting, not really. He was now in a terrible mood, but all that was on his mind was sleep. [/style]

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[howl]

A squeak of delight was difficult for Billy to prevent, as a change purse fell out of the coat, landing on the slightly wet pavement with a dull sound.
In a flash, he had swiped it from the ground and tucked it into the lining of his pants, which he had grown out years ago.
But though he had his money now, he still couldn't help but to want just a little bit more..The coat..Now that, he could be satisfied with.
"Who in the bloody hell are you calling an idiot, you bloody bastard?! At-least I'm not the one losing his money purse!" He aimed yet another kick at the strangers legs, hoping to bring him down so that he could wrestle the coat away from him.
It was, after all, a chilly night.

He grew slightly wary though as the young man started to laugh, and his struggles to bring the man down grew cautious.
Oh bloody hell, he just had to choose the crazy one, didn't he?
"What? You don't want it now? Then give it here, will yeh? Not all of us are so bloody proper about what the state our clothes are in." He grunted, his bony hand still gripping the coat, although not quite as fierce as earlier.
If the man did prove to be...A bit loony...There was no telling what he might do.

"What in the bleeding hell is wrong with you...?!"

[SACHA ANTOINE LEROUX]

[style=font-family: times; font-size: 12px; letter-spacing: 1px; text-transform: lowercase; color: #989898; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;]464 WORDS FOR WILLIAM YAY FIGHT OVER. william... won? lol. DREAM [/style]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,450,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: #6d6d6d;] [style=padding: 10px; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; font-size: 10px; height: 475px; overflow: auto; color: #1e1e1e;]Sacha was growling, the primal instinct of his wolfish nature glimpsing through in that moment. It was not only near the full moon, but he had alcohol in his system which meant that his natural tendency to suppress such actions was lowered. He really had nothing to hold him back, and he couldn't help but hear the voice in the back of his head telling him to bite the boy and turn him as well. But no, he could never live with himself as he did that, angry as he may be at the moment. "And I'm not the one so pathetic I have to steal for a living!" Sacha yelled back, still trying to wrench away from the other boy. This thief was nothing if not persistent, and Sacha made a mental note that he would have to start carrying a knife on him when he traveled to the tavern. That is, if he thought of returning anytime soon. He snarled and jerked again, the coat ripping with the force. Aggravated, upset, and completely ready to kill, he took off his coat and threw it at the other. "You think you're lucky now, just wait until I report you," and if the boy thought of using the ragged coat to cover himself up from the cold with, Sacha would find it easier to track him down. At least, that's how he saw it, but by the time he got home, passed out, and was ready to go to work, he wouldn't be thinking much of this attack. He'd only think of it when it was convenient... or inconvenient... for him to do so. "Filthy pig..." he growled and started running- of course, thankfully, since he wasn't holding back on his energy, he was a very fast runner due in part to his werewolf blood. The streets of London were certainly unkind, but he wasn't sure who it was more cruel to- him or the one who had stolen from him. Because while he would be returning to a luxurious home with a promise of a job and substantial income, the other likely had neither. The thought would have normally made him sad, but he was still enraged, and it would be time before he had an opportunity to mull it over. He just knew he had to get out of there because for once, he had a taste for blood, and he wouldn't have minded killing. [/style]

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