Thiago, back for more action. How long had it been exactly? Thiago didn't know. Thiago doesn't care. 

All he knows is that he has the most fucking-est chapped lips he ever did saw. 

Damn mother-fucking lip-chapping fangs. 

He has returned to the meadow, without Vessel. Without Ghiode; her and that sexy third eye. He could really stand to lick it right about now. His black body glistened in the sunlight, and he looks about, as if wondering where the heck he was supposed to stand. There were holes everywhere. Little vermin living their lives out here on the open meadow. Can't you see Thiago walking here? someone could twist an ankle! 

And where there weren't holes for vermin, there was poop. And I mean, alot of poop. It was as if the entire residency of Beqanna used the meadow for its open poop policy. So, Thiago, in all his nervous glory, is bouncing between holes and steaming shit divots. His little black nose wrinkles discontentedly his whiskers being drawn back by the breeze. 

And his little back feet; They are bright red. Like the little fucker stepped in someone's lipstick. He's embarrassed. He's strange. 

Grown ass man, hopping around like a fucking bunny. 

A fucking bunny with fangs.