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Petrichor. The smell of rain outside. It had been a rather humid and rainy day, though not as if the weather in their area was ever a clear sunny day,on the grounds of Kong. Of course between the janky AC—and the fact it somehow cooled such a large building—the inside didn’t have that smell. Yet under the haunting presence of the building was the car park. Mostly upturned, junk cars. Smashed, crashed, bashed, and trashed. Except—well, not counting the inside—one Winniebago off to the side. This being Murdoc’s living quarters, where he says, quote:
' 'Is where the love happens' '
Murdoc hated the smell of rain. It reminded him too much of well, everything. It’s like it followed him around, stuck to his clothes, his skin, his hair. Long story short, he hated it. And it currently reeked of it. He’d crack open a window, hoping to somehow get all this sodding rain smell OUT!
Instead the humidity poured in as well. He scrunched up his screwed up nose, going to close it, before being interrupted by the sopping wet, black feathered beast that Murdoc kept as a somewhat pet…which he hated the term.
The greenish man watched as the raven, Cortez, perched up on a shelf.
“Hey! Watch yer damn feathers! Can’t have you wetting the whole place up..”
Murdoc then finally closed the window, simply receiving a disgruntled ‘CAW’ from the shadowed bird.
Murdoc would plop himself down on his bed, turning to Cortez.
“Don’t suppose you’ve turned up with a little something…?”
He said this whilst cracking a cold one, the bitter liquid flooded down his gullet.
The bird would glide to his bed, dropping a ring in Murdoc’s hand. Gen still intact. Great to keep or rip someone off with.
“Good little bugger…”
Receiving a happier caw in response whilst brushing a finger against the soaked feathers, the man didn’t fall short of noticing the fact the bird was wet from who knows what. And it was dripping right on his beloved silken sheets.
“Hey now! Get off-a here! This bedding costs more than ‘yer whole lifetime!”
Snapping a bit, Cortez flew up to a small perch Murdoc placed for him. How in the world would he dry this thing? He could use a blow dryer. But the bird would freak out, it would also either be Noodle’s or 2D’s. Noodle would give him an earful, and he would take 2D’s, but again…the bird would most likely have a meltdown.
Next thing he turned to was a towel. He didn’t have one in here though…that was clean. Last one was used for…yeesh. And going outside the Winnebago meant going into that disgusting air. But he did think of one thing he could do without…
Murdoc rummaged in a pile of who knows what (that Winnebago is not clean or organized in the slightest) until he found some old bin. Keepsakes? Sure…but more or less junk he’s been hauling around for a reason he didn’t even know himself.
Now, the man wasn’t connected much with any family in his life besides his brother and father. But some distant aunt gave him some sort of patchwork blanket ages ago. It had been ripped up but fixed, courtesy of 2D’s handiwork, a month or two, and some very colorful threats.
“Cortez! Come!”
The bird seemed to think about it a moment, before then jumping down some, hopping over to the man. Murdoc wrapped it around the bird.
“Look atch’ya! Like the big baby you are!”
Murdoc got a laugh out of it, but Cortez seemed offended even without much expression. Murdoc simply dried him off with the blanket. He didn’t know much about bird health or care, but he didn’t want a walking faucet to make his already disorganized area worse.
Once the bird was dried, Murdoc set the annoyed corvid free. Cortez would fly back up to the perch, immediately fixing up his wings and preening at himself. Murdoc shoved the blanket away, stuffing the bin someplace else. Looking up at the bird, he sneered a bit.
“Little girly-boy’s gotta look all pretty eh?”
Yet he apologized in a sense when finding some bird feed and giving it to Cortez…the two sharing a comfortable silence.
Seems his night maybe wouldn't be so heavy. So he did his usual. Opened his cooler and got out yet another cold one. Cheers.