[center][img]https://mmasucka.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/11/TUF_Live_Finale_Weigh_In_094-e1508470589129.jpg[/img]
[h3][color=ed1c24]Jonas Highwind[/color][/h3]
Lake Lunks[/center]

[color=ed1c24]"Well, if we put it in those terms— we've had all break to relax, haven't we?"[/color] he offered with an airy flippantness, contrasting well with Bekah's sterner tone. But just like his strongest foil within the domain of War, he too bent at the knees into a picture-perfect squat to offer his hand and a [color=ed1c24][sub]"what's your name, buddy?"[/sub][/color] to the remarkably friendly Cerberus puppy for an introductory sniff. He was good boy. A good scratch under the chin was only fair for a good boy like him. Thaaaaat's a good boy.

Looking up from his extended greeting with a quite literal hellhound, a flash of bemusement crossed his strong features before he replaced it with an easy grin, one Rhea was well familiar with after a year's worth of training.

[color=ed1c24]"I'll be fine, don't worry."[/color]

He cast his eyes back down to the puppy, and fought his damnedest to keep his brows from knitting together.

What was with the dress.

What was [i]with[/i] the [i]dress?[/i]

They were outside! In Colorado! Those two would get so cold! What on earth possessed them to change into dresses for a distinctly off-record party, where the organizing team had to watch their backs the very second they exited the assembly? This wasn't a dinner at a Gala surrounded by plutocracy, this was a bunch of college students at a lake in the evening looking to get inebriated [i]without[/i] attracting undue attention. Not the place for flashiness!  

He exhaled through his nose, an act that the centermost head quirked curiously at and decided to mimic. Absently moving his hand over to behind that one's ears, his neutral expression didn't waver otherwise.

While Marcella was one thing, she always did off-the-wall stuff like this— but how did she manage to convince Rhea into doing it? He knew that she knew that she was likely to either hang out or be stationed close to the waterfront. He could safely shelve hypothermia concerns thanks to her heritage, but another danger remained— that thing did [i]not[/i] look like it did a good job of being wet.

He thought she knew better...

[color=ed1c24][i]Is this having fun?[/i][/color] some part of his subconscious asked as he held his hand low, about where the canine's chest level sat at.

[i][color=ed1c24]"Shaaaake..."[/color][/i]

No, being bugged was not having fun. [sub][color=ed1c24][i]"Good boy!"[/i][/color][/sub] But he couldn't help it, the dissonance between their dress and the locale did leave one with many questions. Filing through a few of them passed the time, plus it'd continue to bug him all night. He couldn't even place when they had the time— if he'd glossed over the fact while loading up kegs and the like, that would speak volumes about how much he had let himself slip over the break. Something he intended to correct immediately.

He cut off the train of thought that took him into the reverie about clothes, of all things (Thanks Dana, nii-chan's been trying). Fully extending his senses outward and paying attention to them, he picked up several new stimuli. Most notably, he could clearly differentiate the sounds of the many subconversations happening beneath the pulses of musical bass.

[color=ed1c24]"No thanks, Bek. Good for now."[/color]

Next came the distinctly pungent aroma wafting through the air— smoke. A common battlefield odor, but that breed was more oil, wood, or flesh burning. This was distinctly plant-based; without beating around the bush, it was marijuana. [color=00a99d]A...zura[/color], that was the name she just gave, seemed to have her own approach to BYOB. Doubtlessly one that'd win her some goodwill tonight from the assembled crowd.

Taste was still mostly an afterthought, just the remnants of the drink he'd treated himself to on the way over, mixed with a hint of lake. Thank the local naiads that it was clean, as far as lakes went.

Touch was nothing special, just finer detail upon the pup's coat. For a distinctly Hadean creature, he certainly had a pleasant pelt— perhaps Marcy's preference for luxury ran in the family. In turn, that probably also explained the dresses that had given him so much grief...

Sight refined itself in an interesting way. Jonas's eyes were quite good on their own even when he was being lazy and zoning out, but not only did this fullness of awareness magnify their clarity (enough to pick out individual hair follicles if he so desired), but special attention was made towards recognizing and identifying micromovements, extremely subtle preparatory motions made before an action. The uses in battle were obvious to anyone who had ever felt a spike of adrenaline in their lives, but here—

The furthest head from him twitched his ears not more than half a millimeter.

[color=ed1c24]"I didn't forget you, pal."[/color]

And the big lug in front of the canine answered its unexpressed wishes, digging a few fingers under the collar and scratching well.

[color=ed1c24]"You don't plan on having any either, I take it?"[/color] he asked the Athenian, fairly openly trying to ascertain whether or not she'd be able to split the load of "cleanup crew" once the bash was said and done. He knew the answer already, since he knew Rebekah, but it didn't hurt to have her verbally confirm that she was already expecting the same.