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Outcross
Child of an angel and demon, this young lycan orphan was saved at birth by dragon blood, which flows in his veins with mysterious power. His boyfriend, J.D., is a regular kid, but wears a bear cub outfit because that is what he really wants to be.
Outcross skitters into Gambit's Bar, his freshly-clipped nails making brief clacking sounds against the [insert flooring substance]. A cloak subdues the stirred-up dust behind him, its rich green muddied along the ornamented hem.
Outcross 's translucent eyes pull up into his skull as he tries to observe the people standing around the bar. The sound of nearby feet reaches his perked-up ears, and Outcross darts beneath an adjacent table to continue his analysis.
Outcross , sitting in a swirl of warm wool wrapping his hindquarters and overtop his paws, tries to recall someone familiar. The bodies are numerous, but none of them stand out as anything he recalls. A look of disappointment skirts across his muzzle, and Outcross lets out a little sigh.
Outcross 's tongue stretches out, curving up to his nose, and wiping along the side of his snout. Then one ear perks higher than the other. Did someone just say they are a monster? Intriguing! He glances around the room, attempting to link the voice to a face. It isn't a hard task, and soon Outcross' gaze settles on Jovan Du'an.
Outcross , stalking with cat-like grace, moves toward Jovan. He is almost ready to leap up against the legs of his target when, without premonition, a sultry, buxom maiden saunters into the bar and turns on her suds-cycle. A bush of bubbles emerges from behind the counter, enticing Outcross to romp around within them.
Outcross is unable to restrain himself, and given his other objective seems to have departed during his predilection, he decides to spring up over the counter-top and into the flood of suds. Bubbles burst everywhere from his sudden landing in their midst, drifting over the bar in clumps, floating through the air, landing in people's drinks, on their clothes, and drifting lazily to the floor.
Outcross pads into the bar on all fours, sniffing the air with whiskers atwitch. A long cape of green fabric flows down from his collar, concealing the lower half of his body entirely.
Outcross wanders over to the artificial fire of the hearth, and lays down on the cool stone stab in front of the glass barrier between him and the illusion of warmth.