dogmovesout

[dogmovesout]

closed starter for @attaant location: her house hehe

Maybe once upon a time there was a time when Tristan Tramp would have thought twice before committing such an obvious crime as breaking into a woman’s house - but after everything that had happened over the past few years, his own double deaths included, he just couldn’t find it in himself to give a single shit anymore. So here he was, busting the glass of a certain Dreyfus woman’s front door to open it and making himself at home in her living room, after having raided her kitchen for the liquor. The whiskey he had found likely belonged to the new man of this house, and knowing it was Buster’s only made it taste all better as he sprawled across the couch and drank away.

By the time he heard a noise at the front door, a hesitation at the obvious sign of breaking and entering, Tristan had finished nearly half of the bottle and without any thought or care in the world, he threw the remaining half onto the ground. It shattered, the noise of the broken glass echoing throughout the room and likely over to the foyer where Atta was very probably slowly entering the home. “It’s just me, baby girl. No need to be worried,” he called out, throwing his feet onto the floor and heaving himself up from the couch. The motion made the world spin for a moment, but Tramp was all too used to this particular feeling by now. He waited it out for a moment before pushing on forward, turning with a grin to face the blonde that had finally made it into the living room area. “There you are. The woman of the hour, from what I’ve heard.” He takes a few steps forward, the smile only growing on his face as he stumbles on. “Sorry for barging in like this, my wife would be appalled at my manners. But I knew it was the only way to see you without your brute of a murderer husband around. Not that you should care anymore about that fact, having joined the murderer club yourself, eh?”

[dogmovesout]

closed starter for @scamperoo location: outside dreyfus building

With his hood secured over his head, Tristan was in for the long haul right now. Whether his son worked today, he had no real clue, but he would stand right here in this alleyway as long as he needed to until the boy walked out of that building. A few good samaritans had offered up a handful of bucks so far, which was a nice little bonus of this whole mission even if it was a bit offensive that anyone would think him to be homeless. But it at least helped pass the time, watching and wondering who might want to help him out next. It took a good few hours, enough time for him to collect nearly a hundred dollars, before Scamp finally exited the front doors.

Jumping to his feet, Tramp quickened his pace until he was taking strides right alongside the boy, his hand coming up to tightly hold onto his shoulder. “Son,” he greets, removing his hood with his free hand to fully reveal himself - as if there would be any question as to who may be approaching him like this with absolutely no warning. “Can we talk? Give your old man a chance to congratulate his boy?” There’s a slim chance that Scamp was actually going to agree, but he was prepared for that answer. A gun was tucked away in his pocket, just waiting to be pulled out to ensure they had their moment alone together.

[dogmovesout]

closed starter for @littlestramp location: oogie's casino - sometime after christmas but before new years

The only one of his children he still had any regular contact with was the youngest of them all, and while it annoyed and angered him that none of the others wanted anything to do with him anymore, Colette really was the only one he needed. As long as he had her by his side, Tristan knew he stood a chance of getting his family back. For once, he had actually done the smart thing in his life and had stayed clear of his old home during the holidays, instead spending the time with his in-laws and hoping that being there with them would show his ex-wife just how dedicated he was to this family and the commitment he had made to her years ago. Now with Christmas officially over and everyone in the limbo before New Years Eve, it was the perfect time to reach out and finally get at least a piece of his family with him.

It thankfully wasn’t all that hard to get Colette to agree to meet him at the casino. Not that Tramp currently had any reason to believe that her stance with him had changed at all, but still he had worried she may want to do something better than just share lunch in his back office. It was always a risk being out in public during broad daylight though, and with his plans to crash the New Years Eve event, Tristan figured it was better to just lay low for a bit right now. His head popped up from the papers he was looking over as the door opened and a genuine grin grew on his lips as he stood to meet his daughter and wrap an arm around her in a hug. “Letti-girl, I’ve missed you,” he greets with actual sincerity. It was always easiest to fall back into the dad mode he used to have somewhat perfected back in the day when it came to the youngest Tramp child. Perhaps because she had never turned against him and had always stood by his side even when the rest of the family started painting him as some kind of villain. But that wasn’t a thought he should dwell on now, not when he had his one supporter by his side. “I got you a gift. It’s a little late, I know, but I guess my invitation for Christmas morning got lost in the mail.” A joke that wasn’t all that amusing and he hoped would actually cause a bit of guilt to flash through the girl, making her sympathize with him more than he thought she already did. It had been hard, after all, knowing his family was all together without him on such an important holiday.

[dogmovesout]

It shouldn’t be so surprising, that Buster could have been told about the spats he used to have with his wife, but the fact that his private business had spread far enough to reach his former friend and partner still sparked at the rage constantly burning on low inside of him. It took very little to fan those flames high enough until he was lashing out without any thought of the consequences, but right now as they stood amongst a crowd of party-goers, Tristan tried his very damndest to keep that anger in check. To let it simply pass through him rather than consume his very soul the way it normally would. “I also don’t think it counts when you only get the girl because she’s too afraid of the other option out there,” he retorts back, feeling confident in the fact that at least his wife had actively chosen and agreed to marry him for himself. It was far from the actual truth, but he refused to acknowledge any of that. He refused to even consider that he and everyone around them had instead cornered and pressured Lilah into their relationship and eventual marriage. “Not at all,” he agrees, meaning far more than just the outfit he’s wearing. The entire ruse of Buster being a perfect little family man hardly fit him in the slightest as far as Tramp could believe. In fact, in his head he had figured the whole marriage was somehow a way of trying to get back at him. How exactly, he’d yet to figure that out, but he knew there had to be some kind of ulterior motivation behind the act. “Hey, it’s going to take a lot more than my pissed off wife with a gun to bring an end to me.”

⨯⨯⨯

Their reunion was overdue but of course, Buster was looking forward to elongating that for as long as possible. The duo had unfinished history and his current path had given Tramp a perfect landing into the present. Somehow Bennet Rottman took over the life that was once occupied by the other; he was sleeping next to someone every night and actually considering a future with a real family. After so many years of spitting at the idea, refusing to even believe that one was worth anything, he'd been proven wrong. He came through the sea of people like a snake and Buster stood awaiting him on the other side. "I don't think it's the same thing when my fist isn't through her drywall," the man replied nonchalantly. Buster couldn't deny the strangeness he felt in his own skin that night, pulling at the collar of the costume Atta had picked out for him. While he'd put in a few no-gos when it came to his attire he trusted her to not make him look like a complete fool. "Not really my color, is it?" His eyes went down to the uniform he'd dawned for the evening with a shrug. "You've never been able to keep your mouth shut before, I don't expect you to start now, Tristan." It was a long time coming. Buster couldn't deny the turning of the tables and how strange they'd ended up on each other's side of the fence. "No one knows how they end up here, they just do. You'd know that better than anyone as a deadman. You're just lucky to still be walkin' topside if you ask me."

[dogmovesout]

“No,” he answers with absolute certainty and confidence. While an argument could be made that people were capable of some level of change, this wasn’t one of them. Buster hating everything that a domestic life stood for, refusing to be held down by anything or anyone other than his junkyard, that was something that was simply instilled in his personality. Nothing, not even a woman as beautiful as Atta, would ever be enough to put an end to that. Not for forever, at least. Sure, maybe he was making an attempt to try and live the kind of life he swore he’d never have, but it wouldn’t last long. The call of freedom, the duties of his job would one day bring it all to an end - be it either Buster himself calling it off or Atta simply getting tired of his shit. It was bound to happen, that much Tristan felt he knew without any doubt. “I might not know him anymore, but I knew him far better than you ever will. I saw every side of him, every piece that created the man he is today. I know his past better than anyone else still alive - and I know that this happy little home shit, it’s never going to be enough for him.” For once Tramp wasn’t even saying all of this to try to hurt the woman in his arms, but rather simply stating what he felt to be the honest to god truth.

Whoever it was that had Tristan out in the wild, kidnapping young girls, Atta wanted no part of it. She had enough of people bossing her around and making her do things she didn't want to do, including turning people's lives upside down. She'd seen the effects firsthand of what being taken from someone's home could do to a person--all she could hope was that Tristan had left her unscathed beyond the trauma of the night. "That's debatable," she teased with a smirk, the title of monster being one she was certain she'd heard used to describe him in the past, even by his own children. But, the focus was on her family, not his: he was too eager to convince her that everything she'd been growing accustomed to would be ripped out from beneath her soon enough. "That was a long time ago," she pointed out, "you don't think people, or circumstances, can change? Yourself included." They both knew just how drastically his life had changed since he'd asked Buster to pull back from the yard for his family. Now, he hardly had one left. Tristan knew how to capitalize on someone's insecurities better than most, finding exactly where she'd been apprehensive and twisted the knife. Though she hoped her husband was in it for the long haul, she was still skeptical at times when it came to just how much he was willing to shift the scales from professional to personal with his life. "Do you even know him anymore? What makes you think his priorities haven't changed?"

[dogmovesout]

Though he had no real right to be annoyed at any of the blame being placed back upon himself, knowing it was true that he had indeed had multiple opportunities to reach out to the triplets over all these years even before he had died and been brought back to life, it still pisses Tristan off ever so slightly how easily the boy seems to think this is his own fault. “I was just following your mothers orders, kid. No contact with any of you. Not to mention she never bothered to tell me you were living here, I thought you three were in France all this time. If I’d known I would have been around sooner,” he argues, lying ever so slightly in the last part. “And I’ve been a bit busy since I’ve been back. Sorry, kid. If it makes you feel better, I still haven’t met your brother yet either - he probably has no clue I’m back.” A subtle hint at the fact that he had indeed met one of the three of them, not quite calling out Marie for never sharing that information but leaving the potential thought of it hanging in the air around them.

It made sense that there hadn’t been any lie about Scamp’s being shot, considering it had been well known by everyone even in the sidelines of his life when it had happened, but it still puts a minor wrench in the story he was trying to weave for the boy. “Yeah, he had been shot with a stray bullet. We still never knew if it was Lilah or Hopper’s gun that got him,” he straight up lies, despite the fact that it could come back to bite him in the ass if Berlioz ever decided to get the other side of the story from the rest of the family. But Tristan had a feeling that wasn’t likely to happen - after all, he had admitted himself, he wasn’t close with any of the Deare or Tramp clan. It was a big ask, wanting everyone to just get along with each other as if there weren’t years of history bleeding into every relationship amongst the family, but he could pretend like that was his intention all along. Because, honestly, some days it was - all he wanted was his family back together and happy like they used to pretend to be. But of course, there were other days when his feelings regarding his wife and children were less pure and sincere. Not that the kid needed to know that right now, though. “Yeah, yeah. Of course. That’s all I’ve ever wanted here, really. I just want to be with my family. It’s hard, you know, being the one on the outskirts all the time.” For once that was the truth, despite the fact that he should be well aware that it’s his own damn fault he’s always on the outs with his own children and wife.

"Touché," Berlioz countered. If he was so willing to let him ask any one of their family members who he was, he considered it enough proof not to need any more. There had to be a good reason why the rest of his family hadn't told him about his father's living status: he didn't want to question their intentions, especially when Lilah and her children had been in his life far longer than his father had. "Maybe they were waiting for you to introduce yourself?" he suggested, placing a bit of the responsibility back on him for his absence from Berlioz's life for so long. "I also ... I don't know them that well." Which was Berli's own fault, and may have been a reason they hadn't felt ready enough to tell him something so life-changing yet.

Though he hadn't ever asked Scamp or Lilah the precise details of what had happened the night when his father died, he had heard from Toulouse and Marie that their eldest brother had been shot, and that his mother had shot back at their father in defense. Berlioz couldn't blame her for that: a mother protecting her child wasn't something unheard of. "Scamp wasn't just watching--he was shot, too, non?" he asked in clarification, head tilting to the side in confusion. This was why he'd stayed out of the details to begin with: Berlioz didn't want to have to take sides of a story he hadn't been a part of. "I don't know, I--all I do know is that my siblings and I, we didn't have anyone else here but each other, and, now, your family, too. I just hope we can all get along," he said quietly. They'd survived well enough on their own, and, as far as Berlioz was concerned, if they were going to add anyone to the equation, they had to have a good reason for it.

[dogmovesout]

Given everything he knew about Atta, her rejection of the offer to meet his new boss wasn’t at all surprising, even if it was likely the wrong move. If there was anyone that you might want in your corner when dealing with men like Colin Hopper and the world he worked in, it was the god of the underworld. Not even Buster could compete with the type of protection that Hades could potentially offer. Of course it went without saying that he would need to get something out of the blonde as well, but Tramp was certain she could figure out some kind of deal they could strike up together. “Your loss,” he states simply, knowing that one day she would likely come to regret this decision. A dry laugh escapes him as he shakes his head in disbelief. “Of course. I’m not a monster, you know. The boss man had a chit chat with her and I dropped her right back on her front porch. No damage done.” Or at least physically there had been no damage done - emotionally and mentally, well, the young girl would probably be dealing with that trauma for a good long time to come. But oh well. In his line of work a little bit of stress over a minor kidnapping was nothing really, Tristan had seen and dealt with plenty worse over his years. And so had the man that Atta seemed so certain was satisfied and content with the little game of playing house he was currently involved in. But he knew far better to think anything like that could truly last for a man like Buster. “Oh please,” he lets out with a snort. “He nearly killed me when I tried pulling away to be with Lilah. Nothing and I truly mean nothing, not even your cute little ass, will ever come before the yard and his work. He might be playing along now, letting you think he’s all in, but even you gotta be smart enough to know this little game has an expiration date coming up on it.”

Atta shook her head at him, all too unbothered by his offer to let her meet whoever it was that he was supposedly working for now. She'd had her fair share of men in her life who thought they knew everything on the planet--the last thing she needed was another one. "I'm okay, thank you for keeping me in mind," she declined nonchalantly. The dichotomy of his determination to win back Lilah and also want her dead was a complex Atta was never going to understand, no matter how hard she tried. Unfortunately for his family, it did sound like the usual for Tristan, including the casual mention of kidnapping a girl for this new boss of his. "Did you at least give her a ride home, or is she still currently being held hostage?" she asked with a raised brow, unsure if he even knew the details once he'd done his part of the dirty work. Atta rolled her eyes at him, having already figured this would be coming. "Bennett and I are happy, thanks for asking. You know, he's great behind a grill. I think domestication might be meant for him, after all," she remarked, knowing it was the kind of comment that could get under Buster's former best friend's skin. For all they seemed to know each other inside and out, the ways they'd grown apart proved to leave the two men at vastly different places in life now.

[dogmovesout]

Offering proof that he was indeed himself was hard when the boy had never met Tristan before this moment, but he figured there was a way he could at least tee-up the opportunity to prove his identity that worked double time as another shot at the rest of the family as well. “Well, you could go ask any of the kids carrying my last name, or even my wife, they can all confirm it. I’ve been back for awhile now, you know. I can’t believe they haven’t told you guys,” he shakes his head at the end, as if he’s genuinely surprised and disappointed in any of the other Tramps for keeping his existence a secret. If he thought about it long enough he could see why they maybe wanted to keep such a distance between him and the Bonfamilles, but that wasn’t really his style. Instead he was just going to take it as one more reason to be pissed at them all - Lilah in particular, of course.

A sharp laugh escapes him as he shakes his head once more, looking down at the floor for a moment before returning his gaze to his son. “That doesn’t surprise me. Don’t take it personal, kid, I don’t think she was telling anyone the real story. Gotta cover her ass, you know. Can’t have too many people knowing that she murdered me in cold blood as our son sat there and watched.” Not really the truth at all, but it was what would make Tristan sound the most innocent in the entire situation. And it wasn’t a full out lie either - if Berlioz went to fact check any of this, he’d obviously be given more details of what had pushed everything into motion, but the bare minimum fact that Lilah shot him dead and Scamp was there – well, that was all absolutely true. “There was a fight but she wasn’t involved in it at all. And she’ll say it’s self defense but she was off to the side perfectly safe. Don’t really know what she was defending.” Another lie - a clear and deliberate one this time, considering he knew exactly who had fired the first shot anyway.

All of this seemed some sort of a joke to Berlioz. There was no way on this planet that a man could simply come back from the dead--he simply couldn't fathom it. Whoever this man was, it surely couldn't be his father. "Do you have proof?" he pressed, surveying the man from head to toe with just a glance. "I simply haven't heard of anyone coming back from the dead before, and my mother taught me of the danger strangers might bring. I believe you, but I'd feel much better if I had proof," Berlioz explained, the most reasonable he could be without diving into just who had made him so cautious of what adults around him told him.

Berlioz shook his head at both of his so-called father's questions. "I heard there was a gun involved, but I didn't want to know the details." In fact, he was probably more similar to the youngest of the Tramp girls than he previously thought: he simply didn't care as much as Toulouse and Marie to get to know his extended family. "Lilah? Non, she--she didn't mention that." He frowned: it was hard to believe someone as lovely as her would kill someone haphazardly, though. "Was there a fight? Was it self-defense?"

[dogmovesout]

“Yeah, they are,” he agreed easily, acting as if he himself wasn’t lumped soundly right in that same category. It was easy right now, to pretend like he was some kind of great guy - a knight in shining armor that swooped in and saved the day. All other actions of his past were purposefully forgotten and buried for the moment, just the way Tristan liked them to be. “None of us really have our footing anymore. Shit’s fucked up left and right. You think you got a handle on things one moment then the next your fucking knocked on your ass again.” Though the argument could certainly be made that every time Tramp found himself being kicked around or knocked down, he had always brought it upon himself with his own actions - but he wasn’t about to admit or acknowledge that fact. Certainly not when he was sitting on such a high pedestal right now. “I died,” he confirms with a nod and a smirk, feeling like he might as well be a god himself for having found a way out of death as easily as he had. It shouldn’t be something to brag about, the fact that he was such a piece of shit that the king of the underworld wanted to recruit him in a task to overthrow olympus, but Tristan hardly saw it that way. “A higher power just knew I wasn’t ready to be done with this world yet.” Not at all the actual truth, but it was what Hades had told him to sell the deal.

⋆ ꙳ ⋆ ꙳ ⋆ ꙳ ⋆

He had always been trouble but maybe that was what she was drawn to. No matter how hard Peg tried to escape him, it was still Tramp who came to her rescue when it mattered most. In fact, there was a chance the blonde would still be living out of her Beamer and selling herself to eat her next meal. Sometimes she wondered if there was a greater force bringing them back together but her conversations with his ex-wife were always in the back of her head. While Peg had never seen the monster beneath the man the stories made her wonder how blind she'd been. "He's a asshole, most of them are," she said brushing off the actions that Tramp had pulled her from the depths of. "I thought you would be tired of still helping me. You think I'd have gotten my footing by now." A more somber tone than her usual but he'd caught her when she was near rock bottom again, living on the wage of a bar singer and fighting the voices of her past addictions. "I heard you died. Hell spit you back out too?" Neither of them innocent, having their fair share of actions that put them on the list to get sent downward.

[dogmovesout]

RYAN GOSLING 96th Annual Academy Awards (March 10, 2024)

[dogmovesout]

A snort leaves his lips at the thought that business talks were off limits at an event like this, a ridiculous notion and they both knew it. Though he hadn’t originally approached the blonde with the intention of striking up any kind of deal, he can’t help but take the opening that she offered by bringing it up herself. “You know my offer always stands. I work with people that are more powerful than you could even begin to imagine. One life taken in exchange for contact with my boss seems like a fair enough deal to me,” he points out, though it probably means nothing to her considering he isn’t willing to actually admit just who his said boss was. It was the biggest card Tristan held and he wasn’t going to show it to just anyone - the only person he actually fully told in any major detail was Oogie, and that was only because the vampire had violently demanded an answer as to how he was alive again. As Atta agreed to the dance and took her position, he lessened his grip and moved the hand to rest on her waist. “Oh you know, the usual. Trying to win my wife back, spending time with the kids, kidnapping a young girl for work. Nothing of major note.” There was a smirk on his face as he listed each item, as if he were actually proud of everything he’d done over the past few months. Which, honestly, he kind of was - as horrible as that may be. “What about you? How have you and the wonderful new husband been? Still going strong or has he finally realized the settled down life isn’t for him?”

Knowing that Tristan was present in the hotel was, per usual, a bit unnerving, but Atta was attempting not to let it get to her. She had Bennett with her, and it was all the protection she could ask for against his former business partner. She shouldn't have been surprised when he approached her, quickly taking ahold of her arm with the kind of grip that left little room for resistance. A small part of her was intrigued as to what he could possibly want from her now, especially since she'd so firmly declined his request to have his ex-wife murdered. It was with a tight-lipped smile and a knowing look that she reluctantly agreed, letting him lead her toward the dance floor. "Tristan," she echoed, "if this is to ask me about doing something for you again, you know that parties aren't supposed to be places of business." The statement was hardly true, and she didn't expect him to obey her request if that had been his mission in finding her, but it was the least she could do to try and save herself from striking a deal with Tristan right now. Atta placed one hand on his arm and the other in his, beginning to sway to the band playing in the front of the room. "I'm honored that you want to catch up with me. Actually, you're right, it has been a while. What exactly have you been up to since I've last seen you?"

[dogmovesout]

It shouldn’t be so surprising that the boy didn’t know he was alive again, considering his very last conversation with Scamp had confirmed that the Bonfamille’s had never been told of his rise from the dead, but when he spoke with Marie she had seemed to already know anyway. Guess that information had yet to be shared with her brothers, or at least not the youngest one standing at Tristan’s side right now. “No joke, kid. And no twin brother, it’s me. Your old man,” he answers with a smirk, taking far too much amusement in this than he should.

“No one told you I was back?” he asks, even though he already knows the answer. But it was always fun to fuck with people a bit - and he knows that telling Berlioz that his siblings and so called family had been keeping such a huge secret from him will likely mess with the boy. “I know you don’t know me very well, which is your mother’s fault by the way, not mine - but it’s gonna take a lot more than a couple bullets to bring me down for good. Even bullets shot at me from my ex-wife. You knew that was how I died, right? Someone at least told you that whole story?” Likely not, Tramp knew, but it was just a little extra twist of the knife the rest of the family had placed in his back by not telling the Bonfamille kids any of the truths regarding Tristan.

After Marie's set, Berlioz had been wanting to leave as soon as he could from the hotel and simply go to bed. It was exhausting, the amount of socialization that was required to be at one of these things. Not wanting to be the odd one out who simply bolted the moment they were done, he supposed he could stick around for one drink. As he closed the top of the grand piano and collected his sheet music, Berli felt a firm hand on his shoulder and a voice he'd never heard before. It took him a moment, but between the sentiment of his words and the unmistakable face he'd seen before in photos, Berlioz knew exactly who he was speaking to. Except, if he remembered correctly, he must have been speaking to a ghost.

The man who looked just like Tristan Tramp couldn't have been him. The only reason Berlioz even knew who he was had come from his death. There had never been a mention of an uncle, but it seemed to be the only possible explanation he could think of for why someone who looked exactly like his late father had approached him. "I'm sorry, are you ... this isn't some sort of practical joke, is it? Did Tristan have a twin brother?" Berlioz could only stare at the man in genuine confusion, unsure how to react to the greeting.

[dogmovesout]

closed starter for @attaant location: hotel transylvania halloween party

After an attempt at dancing with his wife turned sour, resulting in Lilah practically running off into another man’s arms, Tristan wasn’t exactly in the best mood of his life. Downing another cup of whatever red alcoholic mixture the closest server was carrying around on their tray, he tried his best to calm the rising temper within him. It wouldn’t do to cause a scene, not with so many people here who hated him. Laying low was the name of the game tonight. Or at least, that’s what he was trying to tell himself he needed to do. In reality, he hardly knew how to do anything other than create some form of chaos everywhere he went. A point that was proven the moment he looked around and spotted a familiar face, one that had his feet moving before his brain even realized where he was going. “Atta,” he greeted as soon as he was close enough, hand reaching out to grip firmly on her arm to keep her from trying to run away the way his ex-wife had just minutes before. “Dance with me. It’s been too long, we need to catch up.” Not that there was really anything new going on in his own life, but like hell was he going to just stand around like some kind of loser. And the blonde had been the first person he noticed that was actually worth spending any time with. Maybe he could get some information about Lilah and his kids out of her, since no one else ever seemed to be willing to tell him anything these days.

[dogmovesout]

closed starter for @nohousedog location: hotel transylvania halloween party

This was a potential death wish, approaching the man that Tristan was slowly coming up upon, and the logical part of his brain knew that. It screamed how bad of an idea this was. But since when did Tristan Tramp ever listen to that side of himself? Rarely if ever, and certainly not when he was a good three or four glasses in on whatever alcoholic concoctions the hotel hosts had provided in bulk. So here he was, stopping to stand right in front of the man he had once called brother. The man who, last time they had seen each other, had nearly beaten him to death. But with the large crowd surrounding them and the knowledge that Oogie was just a shout away, well, Tramp far more confident than he probably should have that nothing would happen. Or if it did, this time around it wouldn’t be him laying on the ground in agony.

“Bennet,” he greets with a grin, hands shoved into his pockets as he looks the other man up and down. It was strange, seeing him wearing an actual costume, but he’d seen Atta running around with her sister wearing a very similar outfit and it suddenly made perfect sense. “Look at you. Here with a wife, wearing a couple’s costume and everything. I remember a time when you were ready to rip my head off for wanting to settle down and make a decent life with my own girl, remember that? The shit you gave me for trying to win Lilah back after you blew it all up in the first place.” That wasn’t exactly what had happened - the fault actually falling entirely on Tristan for lying to his girlfriend for so long, but it was always easier to place the blame on anyone else whenever he could. And Buster had been right there, an easy target to throw all the shit at instead. “Funny how that was an issue but now you can run around with Atta, playing house and no one’s supposed to say a word.”

[dogmovesout]

closed starter for @berlifamille location: hotel transylvania halloween party

After having run into his estranged daughter, it’s not surprising to see the other Bonfamille children running around the island now. There’s still a spike of bitterness as he spots the youngest of the triplets, the fact that neither their mother nor anyone else who knew about them had thought Tristan deserved the right to know they were here pissing him off. But he figured that wasn’t necessarily the boy’s fault. They’d never met before and he was technically supposed to be dead, his identity as their father only revealed at his literal will reading, so it made sense that none of them had really bothered reaching out. But just because he understood it didn’t mean he wasn’t allowed to be upset about it at the same time.

Walking up to the boy, it was obvious that he didn’t recognize Tristan, which only further proved to piss him off in all honesty. This was his son, and he didn’t have a fucking clue that his own father was standing right in front of him. A rational person would be able to see how that was actually his fault more so than Berlioz’s - that it was his responsibility as the parent to be present, not the other way around. But Tristan Tramp has never quite been the most rational of beings. So with a bit more force than necessary, his hand came to clamp on the younger boy’s shoulder and he offered a smile as he looked down at the kid. “Well, if it isn’t my youngest son. You weren’t really going to ignore me tonight, were you? I would have thought your mother would have taught you better than that.”

[dogmovesout]

Running into Peg of all people while he was out doing some random errands for Oogie had hardly been expected, but he couldn’t say he was necessarily disappointed in the way it worked out. Not that he likes that she was in danger to begin with, but well, Tristan always did love getting to play the hero. It was a good change of pace from the villain role so many people in his life had given him recently, something he hardly agreed with at all but somehow struggled to shake off. But none of that mattered right now, not after he had rescued his ex girl like some kind of knight in shining honor and brought her back to his place. “No problem,” he brushed off what he’d done with a shrug and a sip of his own beer, even though it did indeed feel like quite the big deal to him. But if there was one thing Tramp had learned over the years, it was that you can’t get too cocky over the victories you achieve - a piece of advice he wasn’t always the best at following, but he played it cool enough right now. “Hey, listen, I don’t give a fuck what you’re doing. Shoot up, snort shit, it’s all fine with me - we all got our vices, whatever it takes to get you through the day, I get it. But what that guy was trying to do? Yeah, that crosses the line.” Which was pretty damn ironic, really, considering he’d done far worse to his own wife over the years - but if questioned on it, he’d say it was completely different.

who: @dogmovesout where: tramp's apartment

He had done it again, came to her rescue when she was certain she'd flown too close to the sun again. A little drug deal went wrong in a matter of minutes. She'd come with the right amount of cash but it had quickly become clear that wasn't all he'd wanted to get out of her that night. If Tristan hadn't showed up when he did, Peg wasn't sure she would've gotten out scuff-free. Sometimes it was like he had a sixth sense at knowing when she was in danger and swoped in to save the day. It was what had drawn him to her in the first place and now the blonde sat on the couch she swore she'd never see again. "Thank you for getting me out of that," Peg started, only pausing to shoot back the whiskey he'd given her upon their arrival. "I know I shouldn't be getting into it again but it was only this one time." A lie but it wouldn't be the first time. After all he'd lied about she figured this once wasn't so bad.

[dogmovesout]

Between the two twins and their answers about their seemingly missing sister, Tristan was actually satisfied that they were telling the truth. It made sense for Annette to only reach out to Ellie and not bother giving any updates to her brother. It was a perfectly plausible situation, on both their ends, that he didn’t feel even slightly like he was getting played. Perhaps he should have known his two eldest kids were far better at lying to him than he wanted to think, but as it was he simply took their answer as the truth, nodding along and not bothering to ask any more questions regarding that particular child. Which he wishes he could do for the Bonfamilles as well, not really wanting to spend time discussing his long lost french children, but he knows he can’t just brush it off. Especially not since he was the one to bring them up in the first place. “I actually met Marie already,” he admits, though he can’t help the frown that starts to form as Scamp confesses that they hadn’t been told of his return to the living. “Oh really? Well, she seemed like she knew perfectly well who I was and that I was still alive.”

A few moments pass as Tristan’s mind reels, rethinking his meeting with his daughter and trying to remember if there were any signs that had given away that no one had told her about his newfound life. Before he can come to any conclusion though or ask why the fuck Scamp had been keeping him a secret from the triplets, Ellie’s filling the silence with an answer to her own question. One that hardly catches his attention at first, giving barely little thought to her original answer about the difference between her job and emergency room nurses, but the moment that he hears Hopper’s name spoken, all care at all about Marie or any of the Bonfamilles is gone. “What?” he snaps, the second that she’s done speaking, the all too familiar feeling of red rage beginning to sneak up on him. “What the fuck did you just say? Colin? You mean fucking Hopper?”

The executive, nonverbal decision that they would be keeping Annette's injuries away from their father had been made long before he'd gotten there, and Scamp had intended to stick with it. Playing dumb was something he and Ellie could both handle, even in his sister's current state of mild intoxication. It would be up to their sister whether she wanted to tell Tristan about what had happened to her, and how much of it she wanted to tell. "I haven't heard anything from Annie, no," he lied, keeping it simple. The more shallow of a hole he could dig for the twins, the better. "Ellie, you haven't either, right?" he questioned, raising a knowing brow at his sister to keep her on the same page.

The Bonfamilles, though, he was certain were okay. It was only the second time he'd brought them up in front of Scamp, though he wasn't sure Ellie had ever spoken of the triplets in front of either of their parents before. "The other three are good, though, yeah. Marie's about to put an album out, that Berlioz helped her with." He was sure Tristan could see it if he looked on the Internet, though he hoped it wasn't a sign that it would be okay to congratulate her on it, or anything like that. "You haven't, uh, seen them, or anything, have you? They don't know you're, y'know, beyond the grave," Scamp joked, though he was entirely serious. "Elle, how's work going for you, actually? I'm surprised they didn't call you in for an emergency tonight."