Lion Head Mesa [ wp ] here i am at six o'clock in the morning

afternoon of the 19th. not actually taking place at 6am. 

his head pounded like a solicitor on the door of a blue collar household, and gucci had numerous regrets and newfound creeds, first of which was that alcohol was poured onto this earth by the devil himself.

but, he had sent @Nazli with an invitation to lady @Aquene, and since it had been accepted, the neb had work to do.

the little man couldn't very well admit guests to his own, cramped alcove that couldn't be aired out no matter the efforts, so a wellspring date it was. he called for the most untouched chunks of meat from the feast (which were few, and definitely not the choice picks) to be brought there on leftover reed plates, along with a conservative dose of fermented berries, and a bone cup of honey. 

the wellspring itself had obviously seen use that day, and the fellahin were too scattered to aid him in wiping it into a presentable state. the noble ended up pushing a wet pelt around the pool corner where he intended to receive his guest, and after dragging it to dry, himself pulled in a large sheepskin from his quarters, and a far smaller rabbitskin from the same.

the exhausted chihuhua then awaited his guest rigidly seated upon the rabbitskin, sloppily folded sheepskin on the other side of a display of medium-to-lower quality foodstuff, his whiskers nervously twitching, one eye slightly bloodshot and good lawd e'ery curse o' this world upon th' bitter succulence o' temptouss snakefruit!