[Winter. Long nights, short days, and lots of snow. The perfect season for a warm, fuzzy coat - which is why Soma has broken his fur-lined long coat out of storage, gigantic floofy collar and all. He's currently sitting on a bench, enjoying the crisp air and the sounds of children playing nearby, enjoying a hot sausage on a bun. An utterly normal way to spend a day for most people, even if they do happen to be looking for a murderer.
When the little fluff ball wanders over and tries to cute his way into a bit of sausage, Soma doesn't even bat an eye at the aura it's projecting. The dogs are avoiding him too, after all, and so are their owners. One demon in sheep's clothing to another, Soma offers the floof what remains of the sausage - a pretty decent meal, all things considered, for a normal animal of that size.
Of course, that's no more an ordinary fox than Soma is an ordinary young man.]
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When the little fluff ball wanders over and tries to cute his way into a bit of sausage, Soma doesn't even bat an eye at the aura it's projecting. The dogs are avoiding him too, after all, and so are their owners. One demon in sheep's clothing to another, Soma offers the floof what remains of the sausage - a pretty decent meal, all things considered, for a normal animal of that size.
Of course, that's no more an ordinary fox than Soma is an ordinary young man.]