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Fuck it. He was going to the sound.

Even if it wasn't part of Heda's domain, he'd wanna be here. It was lovely. Great view, nice waves--no wonder Blackhead and her gang of gal pals had taken to it. He couldn't blame them, but like, also, he could? He really had no qualms about blaming others for things that were quite patently out of order.

Well, he'd show them out of order. It just so happened that he'd had a lot to drink this morning with breakfast. So, without hesitation, he walked along the edge of the beach where it met the cliffs, leaving a trail of pungent urine behind. Ah, the sweet smell of give-no-fuckery.

Piss drein, piss daun, nomajokas, Verx said, eyes creasing half-shut in an ear-to-ear grin.