Donny grinned over at Oleg.
“I think he is coming with us,” he said, his voice still keeping the same soft tone. “I’ve always wanted a dog.”
He bent down again, holding out his hand like he had done before. The dog tentatively padded forward, sniffing it. The wild dog acted like Donny might have been an explosive, ready to ignite at any moment. Carefully, Don reached up his hand to pat the dog’s head. It stepped back a few paces quickly, so Don decided better of it, and retracted his arm.
Kosmo walked into the trees, humming under their breath as they wandered around for a good spot. After a moment of looking around, they found a pretty good spot, only problem is, there was people there. Kosmo walked into the clearing then as soon as they saw the people and the people saw them, they turned.
Oleg sighed, standing up. “Should we start back, then?” We must find out where it will sleep.” He looked at the dog, tapping his lower lip with a thin, callused finger. “Feeding may be difficult. Scraps, maybe?”
“Are you kidding?” Don asked, but his voice still held gentle. “We have raw meat everywhere. And I don’t care— I’ll feed him pancakes. He can sleep in my trailer if he wants.”
Suddenly Don turned, spotting Kosmo. He refrained from calling out, thinking it may spook the dog. Instead, he gave a small wave with a smile.
“And, sure. We can head back. See if he actually does follow.”
With a slight skip, Donny turned. Sure enough, the wild dog followed close behind.
Kosmo sighed, they had been spotted. They muttered something in Italian under their breath before jogging over the two men and the dogs. "Hello," Kosmo began. "I presume you're with the 'circus' as well?"
“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."
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.
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?”
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?”
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?”
“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?”
“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?”
