(Rather than write the same vaguedrivel, here is a pretty gif to inspire you, a link to the weather for the week, and a link to londonist, a great resource for all things London related. As always this post is open all week. Tag in, tag others, check back often!)
"Nah, see, a poisonous mammal that looks like a duck makes perfect sense. Looks like a practical joke, but this guy..." Clint jerked a thumb back toward the alpaca, which looked at his hand like it might be delicious. "What evolutionary purpose is there to a bad-tempered sweater?"
"They've been domesticated for thousands of years," Anael answered, stepping closer when the man stepped back. "Hello," he told the animal, and slowly reached out to pet its head. "Maybe they are here to provide for men. And maybe men are there to help them survive." Mutually beneficial relationship; there was a lot of that in nature. He spoke on a low, gentle tone, and the alpaca hummed its happiness, then decided to ignore him in favour of grazing.
Clint raised an eyebrow as the alpaca suddenly melted for the other guy, all cooing and happy blinking eyes. Two seconds ago, he'd been nothing so much as a belligerent sweater. Shaking his head, he kept back.
"Love animals, and they will love you back," Anael simply stated, joining the other man a little distance away from the alpaca. You never knew when it might decide to spit at them. "You must love animals, if you're here?"
"I don't know," Clint said skeptically, though now his thoughts turned to the rooster they'd had back when he was a kid. That thing had been fucking mean no matter how Clint tried to befriend it. At least the alpaca didn't seem to be about to peck the hell out of his ankles. "But I was never an animal guy, even when I grew up on a farm."
Clint shrugged and couldn't help thinking of the dog he'd left back home in Bed-Stuy. "I came for the dogs mostly. I like those kinds of animals. Chickens and goats too, sometimes. But I've never met an alpaca. I think this guy will be my first and last."
"Without even giving them a proper chance," Anael remarked, but the small smile on his lips hinted that he was playing. "Usually people are spat on before they reach that conclusion."
"Usually, I like reaching that kind of conclusion before the spitting even happens." It didn't work as a larger philosophy, was pretty judgmental really but Clint thought that at least the alpaca was a sure bet.
Anael smiled, bright and clearly amused. "Wise man. What sort of dogs, then?" he asked, tilting his head to the side and stepping in that direction to see if the man wanted to move away from the alpaca, and keep exploring the show.
"The ones here? I always liked the working breeds best. I got a retriever mix back home and he's the luckiest dog I've ever met," he said with a smile. Luckier than Clint himself, that was for sure. Probably smarter too.
"Lucky, usually. Or Pizza Dog. Depends on the day." He preferred Lucky; his friends often went with Pizza Dog. It was a moot point when the dog answered to both.
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Most animals tended to like angels.
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"You've got a way with them."
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