“The raw meat is part of the acts, you know. It feeds us all.” Oleg countered, beginning to walk with Don before Kosmo came up.
“Delirium? Yes.” Oleg’s Russian accent was thick and noticeable as he stared blankly at Kosmo. “I am Oleg Volkov, Russian Werewolf.” He stated flatly, holding out his hand to Kosmo. “You?”
Kosmo shook the hand firmly. "Kosmo Marsilis, Spirito Maligno." They introduced themself, noting the other's accent as well as how their own sounded thick. "It is wonderful to meet you, I was just, how do I say it…" Kosmo grabbed another book from their bag and flipped through it for a moment, the cover showed it was an Italian to English dictionary. "Picked up, yes that is a suitable word, a few days ago."
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Don gave them a smile, holding out his hand as well.
“I’m Donny Wilson,” he said charmingly. “Otherwise known as the Dragon.”
He quickly gestured down to the dog, who slightly flinched away but kept close.
“And this is a new friend of ours, per say.”
Donny looked at Kosmo with an accepting expression. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“So you haven’t been in a show yet. Italian?” He looked Kosmo up and down. “Interesting.” Oleg sheathed his knife, slipping it back into his boot. “We’re moving soon. You know that.”
"No, I have not been in a show, and yes, I do know that we are moving soon. I was simply coming out here for a moment." Kosmo explained, voice almost flat.
“Hm. Be careful you don’t waste too much time.” Oleg grunted, looking over at Don and the dog. His ungracefully tall frame loomed over both Kosmo and Don, and he knew it, partially hunched so that the difference in height wasn’t so drastic.
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Don gave a slight wave as he trailed off, the dog following loosely at his heels. He nodded to Kosmo, passing by them with a smile.
“I’m gonna head back,” he said up to Oleg. “Better get some food in this poor animal.”
He led the mangy dog off, beginning his walk back to his trailer.
"Time is never wasted, but yes, like Mister Don, I should also probably head back." Kosmo decided, pushing his books back into his bag. "Care to walk with me?"
“It wouldn’t hurt.” Oleg tipped his head in the direction that they needed to go, hands stuffed into his pockets. “Where are you staying?”
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Don kept the lead, but fell far enough in order to at least contribute to the conversation, if not just hear it. The dog kept by his side, but it’s movements were stiff. Don kept talking to it softly to calm it.
"I am not entirely sure, I believe in trailer 223. Well, that is the lettering on the door." Kosmo shrugged lightly. "It doesn't really matter where I sleep as long as I can have a bed."
“True. I wasn’t aware that we had open trailers, hah.” Oleg chuckled. “At what point do we run out?”
"I found a decaying corpse in the closet, so newly opened." Kosmo hummed, clasping their hands together.
“..You.. what?” Oleg furrowed his brow, halting in his tracks. “You are joking?”
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Kosmo’s remark caused Don’s ears to twitch as he walked. His hands were shoved in his pockets but the tone Kosmo had taken shot a shiver up Don’s spine. It better have been a joke.
As he entered the clearing, the dog cowered back at the loud noises emanating from the grounds. Don just let down a hand, speaking smoothly as to calm the animal’s nerves.
Oleg quickly caught up with Don, his face paled. “Did you hear him? He is joking, yes?” Oleg rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “Have you heard talk of deaths?”
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“No,” Don muttered plainly. Still, the hair on the back of his neck stood. “But I wouldn’t put it past the rebels. The people against us.”
Don shot a quick glance over at Kosmo.
“I just wonder who it was,” he said, his tone hushed as he walked into the clearing. “And… how long they would have been there.”
“I-I mean- it couldn’t have been a long time.” Oleg began to stumble over his words, the syllables feeling thick and confusing in his mouth. “Right?” He glancing around the campsite, trying to see how the others acted. “Trailer 223.. Who slept in there? Do you remember?”
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“I don’t. But, hey, he might be joking…,” Don said, trailing off. “Hopefully.”
He lead the wild dog to his trailer, the dog scared of almost every sound coming from the grounds. He opened the door, the dog scurrying inside hastily. It hugged one of the corners religiously, tail tucked. Don looked at it with pity, giving Oleg a shrug before heading inside. He gave one look over across the grounds, at any trailer, then stepped up the blocks. He left the door open, so Oleg could follow if he wanted to.
And follow, Oleg did. He sat down, mentally recounting the list of everyone he had said hello to that morning. He rubbed the dark circles under his eyes. His glaze flickered over to the dog, almost softening for a moment. “The dog. Will you name it?”
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“Only if you help me,” Don replied, already shuffling through his cabinets. “But first I gotta feed it. And… fix it up. Guess I know what my day looks like.”
He brought out some salted dried pork from a cabinet, and a hairbrush from his pocket. He slipped one of his pocket knives out, too.
He sat down a few paces from the animal, coaxing it out of it’s corner and feeding it periodically as he began cutting off mats, and combing through its coarse grey fur.
“Help you name it? Easy. Bear.” He gestured to the grey dog, then to the bite on his arm. It was worth noting that Oleg still hadn’t put a shirt on. “Feral like a bear. Bites.. not like a bear, but that’s okay. I forgive him for that.” He laughed, gnawing at his fingernails. “Good dog name.”
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“Bear,” Don repeated happily. “I like it.”
He continued to comb the dog, humming to it cheerful, yet calmly. It kept contentedly gnawing at the salted pork, but Don didn’t seem to mind sharing his food.
“Should we bathe it?” Oleg moved to sit on the floor as well, still a respectable distance from the dog. “He’s dirty. You don’t want a dirty dog in your trailer for the amount of time we’re moving.”
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“Yeah, yeah,” Don mumbled, cutting out one of the mats with his knife, being extremely careful. “I’m just trying to get him relatively… combed, before we do that.”
Don raised an eyebrow, continuing his work as the terrier-looking dog sat. “I have that pool I practiced in earlier. If not, we could just hose ‘em off.”
Kosmo poked their head into the trailer where the two were. "It was very old, don't worry. The corpse I mean." They said plainly, hoping that would make it somehow better. They had stopped by the trailer and dropped off their bag before coming here.
Oleg knitted his brows in thought, pressing his lips into a thin line. “I feel that’s worse, if the body was old.” He sighed, watching the dog. “Isn’t it?”
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Don shot a quick glance when Kosmo poked in, but quickly returned to his work. At the new person, Bear flinched back into the corner, but Don laid a hand on its head, coaxing it. Bear’s nerves soon calmed, and he went back to gnawing on the food.
Kosmo kneeled on the floor, holding a hand out for the dog. "Hello there, don't mind me. Eat your food then you're welcome to come say hello." They said softly, focus directed at Bear because dogs are more important then humans.
“How many more.. ah.” Oleg paused for a moment, thinking of the word. “Tangles..? Are left?” He pointed to Bear.
