Overture Downs Doomsday

There was no reason for him to be trailing after her aside from their gender differences. He was a young man, but never before had Betelgeuse been inclined to chase tail in any manner; not that any woman would take him with his deformity. The very thought of his grin made him snort softly — which he immediately regretted, seeing as the sound would easily alert her to his presence, although the wind already had. He was wide-eyed when she turned and spotted him, and for a split second they just stared at one another.

He thought, naively, that they could have a nice chat and maybe get to know one anther — that thought was just as quick as their conjoined surprise, and was gone as soon as she bared fang. The heavy-weight grimaced, which was made to look even worse because of those crooked lower teeth, and he pulled away from her a step, in time for her own revulsion - and question, which fell on deaf ears initially.

Betelgeuse ducked his head and seemed to thrash it as he backed up, as if shaking his head would rid it of his many thoughts; then he leveled his pale eyes upon her. His voice was just as mangled as his jutting face: B-Betelgeuse, the flick of his tongue as he hit the middle of his name was extra odd, what with the gape of his jaws. Following this surly introduction he sort of yawned and added partway through the motion, Relax, m'not gunna do nothin'. 

Following this, he slurped up a line of saliva that threatened to drip from his mouth with a snrk.