Ferver sat atop a barstool, that dark blue hair appearing black in the dim light of the tavern. He wasn't exactly enjoying his new life as a contract killer, especially in terms of the clothing, it seemed that some random man running about in simple commoner clothing claiming he ran a business in eliminating the scum of the land was pretty hilarious. Those black leather boots with blackened iron topping the toes were tapping the floor boredly. Gloves bearing the same treatment on the knuckles drumming the bartop lightly.
That beagle was still laughing in his head via that mental link while it lay next to a boot watching him. Ferver's blue eyes glanced at those black cotton pants that were bloused into the tops of those boots that came a few inches short of his knees. A sad sigh gracing his lips as they moved to glance at his black cloth vest, and took a moment to adjust that crimson bandanna. He then slowly began to nurse his booze, everyone's eyes were on the newcomer of course. In this town it was a miracle no one had tried to mug him, or kill him yet.
"Why don't ya' just hire a scribe to draw a picture, otherwise I'm going to bury this mug of mead in yer skulls," He commented, throwing a gruff twist to his voice. He was actually getting good at becoming a tough guy. 'Yeah that'll be the day, you wouldn't kill a fly if it wasn't for your darker half there tough guy,' The dog commented via that link in his head, issuing a light audible sigh. "Quiet you!" Ferver snarled aloud on accidentally resulting in more mental cackling from the dog. "I live such a blessed life..." Ferver grumbled to himself. 'Need I remind you if I wasn't such a nice person I would have left you to do in that forest..., that and I don't have to share my food with you, you are a hunting dog after all".
The laughter in his head stopped immediately, 'Fine, fine you win... this round, just don't forget I helped you shape this tough guy image there boss," the dog huffed before resting it's head on one of his boots.
