MOVE, HOT ROD // ESCAPE ATTEMPT

[B. DELORIA]

[align=center][div style="width: 500px; text-align: justify; font-size: 9.4pt; line-height: 1.4;"]As soon as Butch learned Frog Lady wasn't waking up from her nap, he immediately recognized that it was his chance to flat out beat feet outta Deadsville. He didn't want to think about what'd happen if he stuck around- maybe he'd get passed to someone else worse than Frog Lady. Yeah, maybe there'd be someone better, but he wasn't gonna bother waiting for that coin toss, so he devised a plan. Sort of. He wasn't Val, never would be, except Val wasn't him and couldn't charm the last belonging off a miser. That was Butch's domain, and he wouldn't let a bit of metal around his neck deter him any. Not from freedom of this dump filled with creeps.

So. The plan. If he could call it that, since it was mostly causing a distraction and booking it. Wandering around the desert beat acting all subservient.

"Hey there, dreamboat." The border collie sidled over to some guy investigating the poisoned water, who startled a bit, then glanced at his collar. "My eyes are up here." Predictably, he instinctively glanced up, for Butch to give a smirk and bat bright eyes. "My master wanted me to send you a message." The guy had his back completely to the water by now, and Butch didn't hesitate to shove him into it. "Drop dead twice, shithead." Skirting around, Butch hauled ass across the sand, running like Val was on some kinda science rant chasing after him.