silly rich boy [Yue]

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top peeing on things! Shibuya, hey, waaaiiit!” With one disdainful look back, the shiba inu was gone around the next corner. Maxwell glanced nervously at the Chinese Town market street he was on, shriveling under the irritated stare of the vendor his dog had nearly christened the booth of. “H-He didn't actually, um, pee... On your stuff...” He said, voice trailing off weakly. By the time the seller had opened his mouth, the fairy had fled down the street after his familiar. This always happened! No matter how many reprimands, or training classes, or treat bribes he offered Shibuya, he always had to make trouble during his walks.

Feeling embarrassed and uneasy that the fact he was running would make people think he was some kind of fleeing thief, Maxwell hustled along at a strange half walk half run, barely rounding corners in time to see the tail of his dog whip around into another alley. Never one to be very athletic, he was panting by the fifth minute, and totally lost by all the twists and turns. Clutching the stitch in his side, the aromatherapist looked around at the suddenly shoddy buildings, swallowing hard in middle-class paranoia. He'd seen what went on in these places in movies, and in the newspaper! “Sibuya!” He called again, his voice high with nerves. There was a furious outburst of barking up ahead, and, after a small initial jump of fear, the fairy took off as fast as his legs would allow towards the sound.

What he was greeted too was the sight of his familiar latched onto the pants leg of an annoyed teen who was shaking his leg harshly, while a group of what seemed to be his friends leaned on the buildings laughing their asses off. With a yelp of surprise, Maxwell darted forward just as his dog was kicked off, and, surprising even himself, he jumped in between the other man and Shibuya took the kick meant for his dog on his shin. Quickly dropping to his knees (ow! Ow, ow, ow!), he threw up his hands. The laughter had stopped, turning into a lot of words snapped in what he could only assume was Chinese. “Sorry, sorry!” He said, twisting, and scooping up the shiba inu into the protective circle of his arms.

“Oomph!” There was a sudden sharp pain in his side as the teen who's pants had been bitten shoved him over with his shoe, angrily motioning towards the bottom of his pants. Staring up with unbridled fear oh god he was going to get murdered in an alley!, he clung to Shibuya and scuttled backwards on his back. The other teens were circled around the two of them now, snickering and saying things his panic-addled brain couldn't comprehend.

“Do-Do you want my wallet? Please, I don't have much!”

(They're probably just saying something about how he needs to buy him new pants since his dog ripped them, Maxwell is just an oblivious middle class fella who watches too much news. xD) [/style] [/style][/style][/style]