Artisan was well on his way to deciding that Boreas was the greatest place on the entire planet, he'd barely stepped foot in these new lands and already he'd been offered numerous free options for intoxication as well as a plentiful amount of men and woman with which to lay. If he wasn't careful he'd find himself forgetting the wonderous wolves which he'd serviced and been serviced by, so as he bid his last lady goodbye the golden boy settled in on the sand to find the appropriate stones with which to craft his momentos.

He assumed he must of been be ridiculously drunk, as it seemed his ability to see color had faded. While most beaches had shiny rocks aplenty that he could gather to match the coat's of his lovers, this one seemed to carry only a deep onyx tone no matter how many piles of stones and sand he sifted through. That wouldn't do at all, as while so far the wolves of Boreas weren't as colorful as his homeland was, they weren't all black.

The drunken man made a low grumble of annoyance as he tossed stone after stone over his shoulder, his colorful bracelets jingling merrily and taunting him as he failed to add to his collection. One particular stone was quite large, and so rather then toss it away he got to work gnawing at the boulder in hopes that maybe some color was hiding beneath it's exterior. No matter what happened, Art was determined that no more love-making would happen until he found a way to remember those he'd already had tonight. It was almost a sobering thought.

Armando had been snuffling along in the bushes after a cricket when the clinking baubles on a nearby wolf's wrist grabbed his attention. Thus began his investigations to determine whether or not the giant and his pretty bracelets were worth pursuing. He watched as the wolf tossed rock after rock aside, and after observing the colorful beast chomping on a particularly large one he decided that this was precisely the moment he'd been waiting for all night. A rock eater was exactly the kind of beast the little grifter lived for. Armando wasn't put off by his size, either. He wouldn't have wanted this to be too easy.

Now, how to go about this...

The beast seemed to be looking for something. The way he examined the stones gave Armando a framework for what he needed to do. But what in particular was he looking for? That was the tricky part. Even if he didn't have to figure it out he needed to word what he said in such a way so as the convince the beast he had the answers.

Absently Armando reached out, snatched up the cricket, and tossed it into his mouth. Then, with a bit of swagger he didn't deserve, he strolled brazenly up to Artisan and flopped down on his rump beside him. There was a very good chance the beast would try to munch him so Armando was prepared to run even though he appeared relaxed. Dogs were tricky. "You're going about it the wrong way, you know."

Artisan shot a too-quick glance the strangers way before returning to his desperate gnawing, but once the image had sunk in his chewing slowed to a stop. The colorful man lifted his head and stared over at the creature with what could only be recognized as fascination. His jaw fell open, the rock tumbling out from between his teeth onto the sand below. Art entirely ignored the red panda's words, his focused gaze unwavering and centered juuuust past Armando's forehead.

Finally Artisan found words, and as he spoke he crawled just a little bit closer. "Can.. Can I try on your hat?" The Aracari man's paw slowly began to lift, inching closer and closer to the fedora even before the little red panda could give his okay. Of course, Art wouldn't take it without explicit permission - consent was everything, after all - but where was the harm in just touching it's tiny brim?

Armando clutched his hat as the wolf fixated on it and leaned in. Honestly he'd forgotten he'd been wearing it. Couldn't even remember taking it out of his bag and putting it on. Oddly enough, he didn't even remember packing it for the trip here, but he supposed the hat was just that special. After all, he did love it. He probably packed it in his sleep or something strange like that. Of course, he didn't usually sleep walk or pack or anything else for that matter beyond sleep, so the situation was all around strange, but he had more pressing things to focus on. Like the big looming drunk who was all...big and...looming, and getting closer by the second.

He decided to play jovial. Laughing jollily, he playfully swatted at the stranger's paw and said, "Whoa there buddy, we just met. I know you dogs are all up on...and in...each other's business right now, but these goods," he gestured to all of himself, not just the hat, "Are invitation only."

The little panda let that sink in for a second. It had taken him all of two seconds to switch gears and come up with a new plan. "I'll tell you what, friend. Seeing as we just met and a little reciprocity makes sense, I'll make you a deal. You let me see those pretty things you got there on your wrist and I'll let you try on my hat." He beamed dumbly up at Artisan, his big, doe-like eyes nothing but goodwill and cheer.

Artisan couldn't contain the devastation in his eyes as the adorable chunky panda dashed his fedora dreams with a happy laugh. He looked like a whipped puppy, and his very sad eyes followed his paw as it dropped back to the ground with a soft "Oh, okay." Armando didn't leave him miserable for long however, because as Artisan was imagining his hat-less existance the red panda spoke again with words that lit up the colorful man's entire drunken face.

He at least had the good sense to be hesitant - these were his most prized possessions he was considering handing away, after all - though his suspicion melted away as he took another look at the finely crafted hat. It only made sense, surely the fedora was as precious to the panda as his baubles were to Art, and a trade kept both their goods safe until they were ready to exchange them back.

Already Art's head was bobbing, his agreement obvious but wordless as he struggled with the ties around his wrists. It took quite a good amount of effort and his legs felt horribly empty without them, though now that he thought about it his head felt empty too, and so surely the feeling would go away when the hat was placed upon his head. Eventually they fell away, clinking into the rocky sand one by one until they had all been released from his wrist. "Good thinking, raccoon!" Now that the hard work was done Artisan found he could articulate once more, even if the words were slurred with drink. "If you wouldn't mind just, stick it on my head."

Armando watched with a carefully crafted dumb expression as Artisan took off all his jewelry. That's right, silly puppy, strip. Oh man he couldn't wait to get his paws on all that hardware. Armando was willing to bet he could get a pretty penny for all of it on the right market. Or, maybe, since there was a lot there, he'd part it out. Spread the pretty around. Ah, but he was counting his chickens before they were hatched. First he needed to get his mitts on them.

As the wolf took things off, Armando put them on. He wrapped them around his neck and shoulders, and when there was extra length left over he wound them around his front legs too. Then he sat there and made a show of admiring them. All in all it was a bit heavy which meant he was going to have to handle this with a bit of finesse if he was going to pull off this caper.

"Good thinking, raccoon!" Armando held up a paw, finger out, to correct the dog and then thought better of it. Let him think he was dealing with a raccoon. If anyone asked later the term would send would-be search parties after the wrong species. He dropped his paw and kept his complaint to himself.

Slowly as though it was a Very Big Deal, Armando stepped up to Artisan. He then reached up, took the fedora off and held it out as though about to put a crown on the dog's head. Once it was settled between his ears Armando eyed him like an art critic and then adjusted the brim. He then stepped back and made a show of looking at Artisan again. After a beat he nodded in satisfaction and said, "Very nice. You know, not many wolves could pull that look off."

His approving look faded and his brow furrowed. "Hmm...actually..." Armando glanced around for his bird companion and after spying her, waved her over.

Artisan's bicolored gaze lingered possessively upon his trinkets as the critter began to gather them up and try them on, but his worry faded away into exhuberance the instant the panda removed his hat. Artisan had to keep from jumping up and down from excitement, he was already considering asking the fellow if he might borrow it just long enough to take to his siblings and show it off.

The actual act of gently placing it upon his head was exactly as special as he'd imagined, and Artisan's eyes followed the hat obsessively even when all but the brim was past his vision. "Does it look awesome?" What a stupid drunk question, of course it did. He waited for the other to agree that he indeed was the coolest looking wolf of all of Boreas, lighting up as the dapper man's approval was generously given. Best. Day. Ever. He'd need to find a stone to commemorate this new friend too, one as small and orangeish as the raccoon was. Later, though. Artisan wouldn't allow his collection to break into hat-time.

When Armando's approving expression fell away, Artisan's heart might as well have broke. His ears flopped to either side and he inched his muzzle upwards, desperately wishing he could see for himself. Failing, he gave a heavy sigh. "I knew it, it clashes with my coat doesn't it? Give it to me straight, fuzzy friend. I can take it." Even as he said the words, Artisan knew he could not, in fact, take it. But he sure as fuck wasn't going to act like a pussy infront of his new friend.

"No, no, it's not that," he said quickly. "The color is perfect; compliments you nicely, but-" The idiot tit fluttered down and landed on Armando's upturned paw. To her, Armando said, "Look at him and tell me what you think." The bird, long accustomed to Armando's ways, fixed her beady black eyes on Artisan. She looked him up and down quickly and then leaned over to Armando, who leaned in far enough to bury her tiny face into the fluff of his ear. He nodded and mmhm'd and nodded some more, then said, "My thoughts exactly." He then turned his attention to Artisan, who he gave an apologetic smile to as if he hated to give him bad news but felt it necessary.

"Well, my friend...you see, that hat is meant for my head." The tit climbed up his arm thereby freeing Armando to wring his hands in abject sadness. "And my head is a lot smaller than your head, so that hat is...too small for your head, I'm afraid." The tit seemed to have a great idea then and fluttered excitedly up to Armando's ear, where it hurriedly peeped something. Armando lit up. "Oh, that is an excellent idea, little one!" To Artisan, he said, "My dear has just reminded me that we might have a hat in your size. I'm a trader, you see, and I have lots of hats."

He picked the tit off his head and gently tossed her into the air. "Go, darling, fetch the goods for this dashing man." The little bird did as he asked, flying at a fast clip up into the trees where its tiny form quickly disappeared. To Artisan, Armando explained, "Mostly we deal with land dwellers so we stash our goods up high where thieves can't get them. We're little guys, you see, and predators can be terribly mean sometimes." The last line he said with an expression that suggested he'd been bullied horribly in the past.

There was a sudden commotion in the trees and Armando's eyes went wide with realization. "Oh no, she's so small and the hats are so big, if she's not careful she'll plummet to the ground! Here," he said while holding his paws out to Artisan. "Let me measure the space between your ears and the brim of my hat so I know what size to grab." There was more commotion in the trees and this time a smattering of leaves and a small branch fluttered to the ground. Armando yelled up at the canopy. "Wait, my dear, let me get it! I'm coming, don't hurt yourself!" Clearly frantic and ready to spring for the trees, Armando bounced from foot to foot as he waited with outstretched arms to measure Artisan's head.

The raccoon's bird flew onto the scene and was asked her opinion on Artisan and his borrowed hat, so naturally the colorful man straightened his shoulders and neck and settled into a sphynx-like pose, topping it off with a beaming grin for show. Surely after that display the bird would find no issue with him or the hat, but the longer she whispered into his new friend's ear the further his smile slowly fell. Art tried his best to be patient throughout their deliberating, though he found his confidence was waning quickly with each 'mhmm' the raccoon gave.

His apologetic expression cut through Artisan's drunken heart, though ever friendly as he was he still managed to return some semblance of a smile. The logic was sound and Art could not possibly refute it - his head was just too damn big. "I suppose.. I suppose that makes sense." He muttered softly, trying to keep the defeat out of his voice. His too-damn-big head angled downwards and his paw lifted as Artisan prepared to remove the precious crown, though his movements stilled as the bird and her raccoon continued to deliberate. Then Armando said the magic words.

A hat! A hat for him - not borrowed, but bought! Artisan's heart felt like it was going to explode out of his chest and he nodded so hard that the fedora upon his head threatened to displace. "Oh, yes, please! I'll pay whatever price!" Too far into the bottle, it hadn't quite occurred to Artisan at all that he didn't bring any goods with him on his way to Boreas. Either way, surely he could convince his siblings to pool their possessions for him to make this once-in-a-lifetime purchase. They loved him after all, and that was what you did for the ones you loved - you bought them kickass accessories.

The bird was sent off, and while the raccoon did graciously explain that he kept his goods in the trees Artisan barely noticed the oddity in it. All that was on his mind was his future hat. What color would it be? What shape? How heavy would it be upon his head? He was lost in thought, and then a leaf fell upon his nose and he was brought back to attention. Armando's panicked words came back to him having fainty reached him in his daydreaming, and when he looked back to him the raccoon was hopping on his rear paws with arms outstretched waiting for Artisan's go-ahead to measure his oversized head.

"Oh! Fuck! Yeah do that!" He dipped his head so low and so fast that his nose threatened to poke the raccoon in the belly. With his head almost upon the ground he peered up into the trees through his lashes, concern in his eyes. What if the hat was to break when she fell? "Hurry, hurry, fuzzy friend!" He squinted hard to try and catch sight of the bird, but all he could see in his drunken haze were branches and vines that looked almost like snakes and his panic was heightened.

The wolf fell for it hook, line and sinker. That was drunks for you. He questioned neither the wisdom of sending such a tiny bird after such a big hat nor any of the other little problems with the scenario as Armando laid it out. Instead the beast all but fell into Armando's hands as he went in for a "measurement".  Grabbing the hat by the brim, Armando made a point to make sure the outsides of his paws pushed down the inner rims of Artisan's ears as though he was getting a thorough 'feel' for the size of the canine's head. Overhead the frantic peeping of the tiny bird could be heard. To Artisan, Armando said, "Oh, she never listens!"

He pulled the hat from Artisan's head and put the rim of it into his mouth. "Ah be righ bahk." With that he then flung himself up into the nearest tree as though the little bird's life depending on it. There, once out of sight, he casually removed the hat from his mouth and put it back on his head. "Oh, my dear!" he yelled loud enough for Artisan to hear. "Look at the mess you made!" Still out of sight, he began to shake branches around as though digging through a hidden assortment of goods. In reality he was unwinding the wolf's jewelry from his person and stuffing it into a small bag.

After his bag was packed he stopped shaking the branches and took his hat off again- mentally kicking himself for not leaving the thing off until he was ready to leave. He peeked through the leaves, all but his face hidden, and said to Artisan, "Silly thing was wrapped in ribbons, but never mind that, I have the perfect size for you. It's in black too which will go nicely with your coat. What kind of ribbon would you like with it? Some kind of gold to match your fur? A teal, maybe? A handsome man like you deserves whatever you want. Just tell me the color and it's yours."

There was no doubt in Artisan's hazy mind, this raccoon had to have been the nicest little dude he'd ever met. Not only did he skillfully see Art's - incredibly subtle - desire for a hat of his own, but even his tiny bird was willing to risk life or limb to retrieve said accessory. It made him only more worried for the odd shapes in the trees that his drunken mind was convinced looked too much like snakes to be safe, but Artisan himself could not scale the trunk to protect his newfound friends even if they'd needed it. Maybe a better friend would encourage them to run and save themselves, but damnit Art really wanted that fucking hat. He didn't have too long to deliberate, politely remaining quiet while the critters had their lover's dispute. Art hummed quietly and tunelessly, waiting until the moment - there he was! His brilliantly sized head popped out through the trees and Artisan's excitement renewed. "Oh, oh!" He spluttered. He had options, but however was he supposed to decide when he was so unfairly born without a fashion sense. Oh, where were his siblings when he needed them. "Okay hear me out - how about a teal ribbon wrapped around a yellow ribbon?" He offered, craning his neck upwards towards the trees to listen for the raccoon's wisdom. "Talk" "Listen" Think

The wolf was clueless and quickly threw out an answer. Perhaps a bit too enthusiastically, Armando cried, "Oh, excellent, my friend!" For emphasis he clapped his paws in excitement. In truth, Artisan could have asked for a red ribbon with moon colored flecks and Armando would have acted like it was the most perfect suggestion ever. Oddly enough he would have had that in stock too. Even stranger still, the statement he was about to make would have still be said as well... "Something that lovely is going to take me a minute. Bear with me, my dear!" He disappeared back into the leaves and after bobbing the branch up and down as though he'd settled down to work, began to tiptoe down the branch.

His little bird was sitting beside the tree trunk with the ribbon from his fedora clutched helpfully in her beak. When Armando reached her he swatted at her in annoyance and then whispered fiercely, "No, no we're not giving him any ribbons you dunce!" God, she was so dumb sometimes he wished he'd eaten her at the firefly festival. When the little bird peeped in protest he quickly pinched her beak shut and shushed her. Okay fine, fine he needed to make it up to her lest she give him away out of spite. "You did good, really, you just need to think, sweetheart. Come on, let's go."

Blessedly, the bird was quite dumb so she went from wounded to allied in the span of a few heartbeats. "Oh, this is coming along just nicely!" he called before deciding that was enough to sell it. It was time to go. Armando quickly stuffed the ribbon into his bag with the wolf's things, put his hat on his head and then he and the bird were off; she flying between the branches and he climbing as quickly and quietly away as he could. By the time Artisan realized they were gone they'd hopefully be tucked somewhere safe.

-exit-