Running out of drawing time tonight, so WIP. This crocoswine ain’t gonna draw himself, sadly. Something for the weekend? Hm.
I have the goofiest idea for a kaiju comic.
They’d usually book a room for a weekend near the middle of the month. We weren’t sure how they knew each other, never asked ‘em outright, but they always checked in together. The big one would silently lug around a single suitcase, the smaller one would do all the talking. Single room. Largest available bed.
They tipped well and they always left satisfied.
(Playing around with brushes and rabdads)
( FA )
Uncle Solomon never questioned who or what I was running from. The doors of his safe-houses were always open to me.
He’d sit me down on his bed and wipe the grime off my face. When I could catch my breath he’d pour me a stiff drink, adjust his chains, and smile. He’d lean in close and tell me stories of the scams he’d pulled back in his prime.
Some of it was true, some of it was lies. But it didn’t matter.
He’d kept me calm, safe, and warm on the nights I needed it the most.
( FA )