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<img src=" https://i.imgur.com/xuaGcXF.png " style="height: 200px"/>
</div><span style="font-size: 26px"><b>Clayton Barker</b></span><b><br/>
Chosen By:</b>Cernunnos (Celtic)<br/><b>Location:</b>Forest<br/><b>Date/Time:</b>Noon, Dec 21st<br/><b>Wearing:</b>Dark blue t-shirt with 'YEEE BOI!' on the front in bright pink text, faded blue jeans with the left knee torn, black steel toe shoes appropriate for hiking, grey jacket with 'ARMY' on the front; unzipped.<br/><b>Tagging:</b><a class="username" data-user-id="9509" data-username="ravynraver" data-xf-init="member-tooltip" href="https://blackdahliaroleplaying.com/members/9509/">ravynraver</a><br/><b>TRIGGER WARNINGS:</b>N/A<br/><hr class="bbc-hr bbc-hr--3"/><br/>Something went<i>ping</i>in the back of his mind and Clayton knitted his brows together as he half turned to look behind him. While he saw nothing, he sure as hell felt like something was creeping around behind him. Since meeting Cernunnos, he sometimes had that feeling, most times, it was when the Horned God was lurking around and inspecting what he was growing. Whatever was circling around him wasn't has god. Looking back to the other man, he raised an eyebrow at the accent. A neighbor from the north, then. It was always hard to tell 'where', though. Appalachia covered such a broad area. Technically, Georgia counted, but Clayton had grown up down near the coast. "Home grown…My own personal strain. I call it 'Orange Crème Twist'."<br/><br/>Clayton was pretty damn pleased with it since he'd managed to actually<i>give</i>it a decent orange crème flavor. The stuff was fantastic for his mental health issues, too. Finally, he shrugged his backpack off at the invite and walked towards the free chair. "You can call me Clayton, or you can call me Buggy. Either works." Once settled in the chair, he set the backpack on the ground; the contents clinked together. Unzipping a side pouch, he pulled out an old cinnamon altoids tin and opened it to reveal several pre-rolled joints. Taking one out, he held it out to the unnamed man. "Joint for a joint? Or I guess, joint for a joint and a name."