[Ishu]

December 12th, Chicago. Sewers near Base. 4AM.

He didn't do much after being kicked, laying with his chest and chin on the ground but bottle still firmly in hand. Aiolia struggled with him for a time and managed to get the bottle away- shattering it on the ground in the process. This did not go over well for Amante. He growled, snarled even, and started to sit up. Lines of fur zipped over his figure and he shoved her away again, speaking low and with a callous tone.

"Just shut the fuck up and mind your own BUSINESS!" After shoving her, he'd started to sit up but had yet to stand. Snarling and growling, he fought the fur back, drove it back under his skin with his mind. When he seemed a bit more sensible, he commented, "It's no one's business but mind. If I want to wash a few days away with the waves of liquor- LET ME!" A line of fur drove up one side of his face, an eye squeezing shut as the other glowed a golden yellow.

It was rare that he wandered into the base or an outpost while on a drinking binge and his attitude was likely why. It seemed being bothered, while drunk, brought out his rage and the lycan beneath much easier and faster than if he were on his own... and sober.