ALWAYS A KILLER IN THE DAWN LIGHT | open, smores

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Bugsy was taking the whole "settling in" situation quite well. This was a new place for him, with new sights and faces to see. Being, well, himself, he had no problem with talking with others and introducing himself. He had acquainted himself with lots of people, even as a kid. It was in his nature to be able to talk with strangers. What was there to be scared of? Besides, he might as well kick his stay off to a good start. What better way to do so than to potentially make a friend? That is . . . if these people could stand him ( and vice versa ). He had been told before that he was quite a nuisance.

At the offer, Bugsy was eager to take up either. A conversation, he could handle. But s'mores? He had only had one in his life, maybe, but he remembered the treat being damn good. It was a good thing that these ferals still managed to get their paws on human food out here. After growing up in the city, he was so used to eating out of trash cans that actually hunting for his food was pretty much a last resort. There was nothing like a lukewarm, half-empty beer bottle and pizza crusts in the afternoon.

The Beauceron padded over, only recognizing one out of the three gathered so far. No problem, he was sure that he'd learn their names eventually. Bugsy took a seat and chimed in, "I'll take both; how's about that?"