( Tyren, human. Rated E for drugs, language, and copious amounts of horny.)
Tyren leaned against the stone wall, one foot propped back as well as he looked over his shoulder down the alleyway. His lips pressed into a thin line and he let his brows furrow amidst his growing irritation. Someone had left him a note to meet him down here almost ten minutes ago. Not a good show of character to be late to one’s own scheduled secret meeting.
As far as Tyren had experienced, that was always a bad sign. But the messenger had left the code he’d taught to only a select few people. Had there not been the little symbol drawn at the end of the message, he wouldn’t have heeded its request.
The coat he wore reached past his knees and obscured his form well, while the thick scarf wrapped loosely around his neck his his face and protected him from the harsh climate that typically graced the mountain town. His trousers were tucked into his leather boots, extra protection from his hometown’s terrain. Hidden in his coat was what he cared most about, though. An empty “herb” pouch that needed desperate refilling.
He looked up towards the sky; it was almost noon, now. This was starting to piss him off.
