| * The ragged cleric's highly tuned sin and depravity detector pings alarmingly as it is pointed in the direction of a certain overcoat. Taking a final swig on the now empty pint mug, he gets up on the second try and wobbles over. *
I definitly shaw shomtink *hic* move under there!
* Indicates the trench coat.*
o 0 ( Sin at last! And I feel strangley elated at it's discovery. Hmm why is it so blurry in this gods forsaken back hair sprinkled and sad souless music saturated heck hole?)
* Falls down * |