It was one of those anger rants he'd cleverly say in his mind, but never have the guts to say outloud TO someone, even if he badly wanted to. Buckthorne wasn't much for assertion, most of the time; he'd rather say nothing and stay out of it, than make it worse and start a REAL fight. He forced himself to sit down, and cool off. He was getting way too excited, and enough to last a MONTH, really. Despite how it seemed, he honestly WASN'T easily angered by things. He must be stressed out too, Buckthorne figured about himself. All this stuff, so much, so fast, was pounding in his brain like a jackhammer, and starting to shred his nerves to ribbons. Plus all of this was making him think. Think TOO much. He recalled the last time in his life when too much had happened at once... like when his father had been drunk and cut his eye... or when he'd found his parents murdered bloody in the house at night... or when- The wolf gasped a frantic wheeze, and clutched at his temples, trying to make himself stop. His mind was getting the better of him; a dangerous moment that had a tendency of showing up whenever he least expected it. It'd proved itself quite powerful too; one of the main reasons of his constant fear of certain unknown and the forever restless insomnia that plagued his nights. Just then, his thoughts were thankfully interrupted by Bullseye, whom, because he'd (unknowingly) saved Buckthorne from himself, he found himself forgiving at once. "Huh... well look at that," the warthog said outloud. "According to his date of birth, apparently Jacque here is about... four or five months younger!" Buckthorne looked at him. "I'm six months younger than you." Bullseye turned his direction to the wolf. "-True... but am I 'dating' you, here?" Buckthorne blinked. "-Point." Then he remembered, and added, "Hey, now wait a second... YOU've dated women both younger AND older, and by YEARS difference!" His friend simply waved a hand at him. "-That may be so, but that is beside the point." We're talking about 'him' here, not me." The wolf narrowed his eyebrows. "-Didn't you JUST say this was 'about you' two minutes ago?" "-Yes, and now we've switched the focus to him," the warthog told him. "Aren't you even paying attention here, man?" It's called 'concentration'!" His friend forced a straight frozen smile on his face, hiding his frustration and weary temper level. "-Well... I 'thought' I was... but obviously, I must be mistaken!" So sorry!" By then, Bullseye was too busy flipping through cards to notice the tone, which was fortunate, for most likely, had he made another cynical remark, Buckthorne would've surely snapped by now. The wolf made his mind to just sit down and keep his mouth shut for awhile; arguing with Mr.I-know-what-I'm-doing-I'm-always-right with a low patience tolerance wasn't working for him. So there was silence again, and Buckthorne's angry thoughts were at last, cooled. This was when Bullseye started making comments about Jacque's things. "-Hmmph... I'm telling you Buckthorne... this is nuts... library card... gym membership... dance instructor I.D.-" His friend looked oddly at the last one. "-Dance instructor?" "-Yeah... I know," the warthog muttered. "Sad isn't it?" I told you he's as gay as they come!" Man... all he needs is a card or something on interior decorating, and he is OFFICIALLY a living gay stereotype." "-Uh huh..." Buckthorne said, blankly. A random question came to mind. "So he's gotta be a good dancer, then eh?" "-Well there's a 'DUH'; yeah, his 'kind' are better at it than majority, no shit." A devious expression was on the wolf's lips. He knew what he was doing. "-So he'd probably be better than you?" Bullseye froze, stopping what he was doing. He slowly turned around, and stared at his comrade, with an obviously insulted look. He coughed, "-EXCUSE me?" Buckthorne smiled innocently. "-Well... you said 'they're better than majority' and... you're 'majority', aren't you?" The warthog saw the game now. He put on the face of keeping his cool. His response was a calm, "-Not necessarily, thank you very much!" His friend gave a light shrug, cooly, "-Oooh... I see... well, no matter!" My mistake then." Bullseye deserved the shot, and he knew it. That time he didn't take a shot back, just gave Buckthorne a 'look' and turned back around. Having dealt with all the ID cards and stuff, Bullseye placed them back into the wallet. Now he was onto the photographs. THIS should prove interesting, he thought. He held up the first one. Seeing the subject, he gave a small chuckle. His wolf friend glanced over. "What's so funny?" The warthog gestured to the picture. "-Look." Buckthorne did, and saw the image of Bullseye's brothers (Jacque had obviously snapped this photo). Seeing what Chislett was doing, he was rather amused, but tried to appear normal. "-Hmmm... well... that there looks like an interesting skill." His comrade gave a snort. "-That's a Chislett thing, if I ever saw one." "Really... how so?" Buckthorne wanted to know. Bullseye rolled his eyes. "-Let me put it this way: Chis was always one of those kids that used to stick his tongue to a frozen pole, in the winter..." "-Ah... figures." "-Exactly... heh." This thing here, he's been doing it since we were one." And lookit that, he's almost got it there." Just a half an inch away from his nose, or so... wow." Who'd have thought?" Maybe in a another few years, his toungue'll finally reach." "-You think?" "-You never know." They both nodded to themselves. The first few were snaps of Goresky and or Chislett, no big surprise there. Bullseye enjoyed them, seeing as he'd missed out on so much of their lives for the last eleven years, and Buckthorne found it humourous to see how much or little his friend's brothers were like him. But of course, the pleasantness was killed. After the friend group pics had ended, they were now onto the 'couple' photos. Of Goresky and Jacque. The first one was one of those pictures where they're both lying on their backs, and holding the camera over their heads to get a shot. This one immediately received a typical Bullseye snort. "The true element of 'cheese'," he muttered, looking at the next one, which was them in a more embracing position. The next one however, caused the most grief by far. "-Oh for the love of-!" the warthog groaned. He held it down, and looked at Buckthorne, saying, "You know... I could've gone my whole life without seeing a guy kissing another guy... but nooo... that'd just be too easy, wouldn't it!" The wolf shrugged in reply. How was he supposed to respond to that anyways? Bullseye looked at the picture again, giving a fake smile and said to it, as if the subjects could hear, "-Thanks... thanks ALOT guys!" I'll probably never burn this goddamn image out of my head!" Lowering it again, he mused, "Even when Goresky said he was gay, I still couldn't 'see it' being real... but now THAT problem's been solved!" Just nod and agree with him... Buckthorne thought to himself, doing so. His friend flipped to the next image, and instantly, upon seeing it, wished to God he hadn't. "-OH GOD!" he yelled, in disgust, snapping his eyes shut. "OH-MY-GOD!" Oh, that is SO not right!" Oh..." Then he made the mistake of opening his eyes and the image was still within view. "OH, for fuck's sake!" Buckthorne, get this thing away from me!!" Bullseye howled, thrusting at him. Obviously thinking that his comrade was making a big deal over nothing, the wolf looked at the picture, preparing to say that Bullseye was overreacting. But seeing the photo HIMSELF, even Buckthorne was shocked. "-WHOA!" he shrieked, jumping. "Oh... oh my... uhhm... okay... I think I'm pretty lenient towards homosexuality... but even THAT is too much for me... alright... I'll just... stick this over here..." He shoved the picture away to the other end of the bed. The wolf gave a uneasy cough. "Ehm... awkward." "'Quite'," Bullseye added, bluntly. They didn't speak for a few minutes, for apparent reason. Just when Buckthorne thought Bullseye was finally going to drop it, his hopes were squashed. "-Honestly man, that there was just... SO-WRONG!" And I'm not talking just how it looked!" That was like against... NATURE!" I mean, it's in the Bible for cryin' out loud!" God made Adam, and he 'begat' a bunch of kids with Eve... he didn't go and dry hump Steve in the bushes!" His friend blinked. "-'Steve'?" "-The male version of Eve!" "-Oh... wouldn't that be like... 'Evan' or something?" Bullseye stared incredulously at him. "OH-MY-GOD," he roared. "What the hell are you talking about?!?" "I was just trying to help," Buckthorne grumbled, blankly. "'Help'??" the warthog spluttered. "You're trying to 'help'?" Well guess what, it's not working!" What you're doing is the OPPOSITE, in fact!" You're... NOT helping!" Sensing a new outburst coming on and wanting to stay OUT of it's way this time, Buckthorne stood up. "-You know what man... I think you're a 'little' too excited here... I'm gonna go tell Mellie that we're eating in tonight, least you spaz out in front of the kids out there." His friend gave a grimly look. "-Yeah... you BETTER!" If I have to sit next to terrible two-year-old Turro and have Miro Jr. snorting mucus all over my pant leg again-" "-Okay, okay, see 'that' is what I'm talking about!" the wolf exclaimed. "Just... wait here... try and... cool off... I'll be back in a bit." "-Yeah, yeah... I'll be here, putting away the 'sicko's crap," Bullseye mumbled, referring to the wallet items. "-Right..." Buckthorne said, scrambling out the door.
Needless to say, the wolf was quite grateful to get out of the room. All the bickering and snapping with Bullseye had him feeling a bit stressed out. He mused over the fact that he'd gotten into as many arguments with his friend in those forty minutes that they regularly only had in about forty DAYS. Maybe not THAT much, but the idea was put into clarity. Buckthorne gave a heavy sigh. He didn't LIKE fighting; it certainly wasn't his thing, especially not with his best friend. It grumbled his guts to be on bad terms with Bullseye, and his depression was enough already. But these thoughts were pushed back temporarily as the wolf tried to think of a good excuse to tell Nurse Melony for the request of being absent at the mess hall that night. Nice timing for Bullseye to go 'mental'; he and Buckthorne only ate dinner with the younger orphans once a week, and tonight happened to be that night of the week. The rest of the time, they would eat in the old pantry two rooms away, which was unofficially 'their' kitchen considering they were the only ones who used the fridge, sink, and tables in it. The young wolf finally arrived at another door down the hall, and knocked. A warm gentle voice invited him in, and upon entering, was received by the kindly female sheepdog. "-Why hello, Buckthorne hun." How are ya?" He put on a smile for her. One of the few females that DIDN't make him nervous, thank God. "-Can't complain," he responded. LIAR!!! his conscience screamed. He ignored it, of course. "And you?" "-Oh, I be alright." Keeping plenty busy, thank goodness," Nurse Melony said, brightly. "All of you youngins growin' so fast, so many of you, and such energy, I can hardly keep up!" Just hope you dear little souls are all gettin' enough love... I'd hate to think I'm neglecting anyone!" Buckthorne shook his muzzle. "-That's not possible, Mel; if anything you love us all TOO much!" The adult female gave a chuckle. "-Oh, hun, there's no such thing as too much love!" You're such a sweet boy." A tinge of pink flushed onto the teen's cheek. It was like a mother telling her son she was proud; something as an orphan, Buckthorne missed alot from his real parents. Well really, he plain missed them being ALIVE, moreso. Melony was like a breath of fresh air, to the love-hungry young wolf. The nurse then noticed the same absence that the guys from earlier had. "-So where would Bullseye be?" Buckthorne licked his lips. "-That's actually the reason I came around..." Melony gave him a look. "-Oh?" "-Well... see... I know how we're supposed to be at the mess hall tonight and-" "-Oh yes, that, I was actually just about to come over and tell you two to be ready to come up in about fifteen minutes." A pang of guilt twinged the teenage male. But knowing that Bullseye was in no fit mood for that kind of socializing, he continued, "-Uhhh... that's the problem... see... to be honest, I don't think Bullseye's up to it today." The female was immediately concerned. "Is everything alright?" "Yeah, he's okay... he's just... kinda... in a mood of... well 'sorts'... had a long day, so to speak." "-Oh... that's a shame," the nurse, commented. "Well alright, I guess you can come in tomorrow or whenever he's feeling better." I'll stop by and check on you two later, alright?" And oh, when you're hungry, just go on in and help yourselves in the main kitchen." Don't want my boys starving, now." Buckthorne nodded. "Sure thing." Thanks Mel." "Anytime hun," she smiled. "Take care now!"
Sighing heavily, Buckthorne closed the door behind him. Well, at least that part was over. Good old Melony; she was always so understanding and sweet... it was as if she refused to believe anything bad said about them. Like what about all those women that Bullseye slept with... no, no, she'd proclaim it was a bunch of nonsense; Bullseye was ANGEL, without a bad bone in his body. Buckthorne knew the truth of course, but how on Mobius could he rat on his friend like that, and be responsible for putting a horrified and disgusted look on Melony's face? No... he couldn't do that. He didn't have it in him. The wolf sighed again, blowing his black hair out of his eyes. Just then, a voice came from behind him. "-Buckthorne?" Hey!" He turned around, to see the owner of the voice. At seeing who it was, one of the wolf's rare smiles crossed his face. "-Farrel!" he exclaimed, obviously surprised. "Long time no see!" "-You got that right!" the said 'Farrel' replied, as they shook hands, heartily. Farrel was one of the orphans, like Buckthorne, except he was some over four years younger. His species was one of the more unidentified hybrid-type Mobians; he had dark, drab color patches of skin, and a various range of traits that suggested along the lines of reptilian or insective and bird-like even. His talon like feet were like that of a raven, three long-finger-clawed hands like a lizard, and multiple legs/tentacles and antennae like a cockroach or beetle. Yet he was a very friendly face to see once you got to know him. Also like the wolf, Farrel had became orphaned at a young age. Much younger, in fact. He'd been a tiny infant, when his mother had come to the orphanage, begging for shelter from the harsh winter weather. It had been one of the coldest nights in Mobotropolis that December, and Farrel's mother, determined to keep her baby safe from the cold, had practically bundled him in almost every bit of clothing she had, save for a cloak and thin, ragged dress. When the nurses had found her frantically clawing at the door, she was literally freezing in the storm, her skin almost blue. Farrel, luckily, was snug and warm in the layers of clothing, and fast asleep when they brought him in. His mother sadly, however, didn't survive the night. Knowing that her son was safe though, she had died with hope for her child. Before she had died, they had questioned her where her husband and the baby's father was, she had wearily replied, "-Gone..." And so, Farrel was alone, no surviving or known relatives to be spoken of. However, fourteen years later, to date, Farrel HAD been recently adopted, which was the main reason why Buckthorne was surprised to see him back here at the orphanage. "-So yeah... wow!" I mean... how you been, Farrel?" Last I heard, you got-" "Oh that, yeah," his friend cut in, trying to appear casual about it. "I had a nice place there with the Brocks for awhile... but eh... I've decided it's not for me." The wolf was confused, at this odd tone. "-What do you mean... 'not for you'?" Still trying to sound like it was no big deal, Farrel went on, "-Well actually, it was more like... 'them' thinking I wasn't good enough or something... real crazy talk, huh?" The bright face that Buckthorne had worn merely a moment ago, was now replaced with a crestfallen and sympathetic look, his eyebrows furrowed upwards, mouth slightly open and his ears lowered. "-Oh... Farrel-" "-Hey really, it's no big deal," his friend insisted. "I'm fine; I don't need them anyways." Never did." Sure he looked calm about it on the outside, but Buckthorne knew better. He was all too familiar with the hungry, loved-starved cry of an orphan's soul, and he could hear Farrel's being ruthlessly shot down like a peasant. He tried to reassure his companion on the matter. "-Farr, I'm-" Knowing what the wolf was trying to do, Farrel's gentle tone suddenly turned brustesque. "-I don't wanna talk about it!!!" he blurted out, angrily. Buckthorne immediately stopped. He watched silently as his friend went red faced, with embarrassment, and turned away from him, blinking furiously. After all, it wasn't easy for a young boy to cry in front of a bigger one, or for an orphan to realize and admit he was unwanted. The elder male wished he could help his friend, but knowing that attitude all too well, he knew Farrel was not ready for comfort yet. Right now, he just wanted to forget. You couldn't blame him either, he had a right to. There was silence between the pair. At last, when Farrel seemed to have ahold of himself again, he said, with some small satisfaction, "-At least... I didn't leave that place empty-handed." Buckthorne's attention was caught. One kindred 'klepto' thought heard the other and flickered to life. "-You didn't..." the wolf mused, yet smiling somewhat deviously, as if he seemed PROUD. This was normal, considering their situation. Buckthorne, as a youth, had discovered his rather interesting talent of deft and swiftness of hands, able to make objects almost 'vanish', in a quick swipe, brush, or snap. Luckily he wasn't exactly a thief, least not to those considered 'good' people. But nonetheless, he admired this strange skill of his. Farrel, even younger, had watched and heard of Buckthorne's talent from a somewhat 'afar' word from other orphans, and had expressed a similar liking to the 'skill' and so, had sought the wolf out, asking to see his 'style'. The wolf was undoubtably better than Farrel, but seeing that the younger boy DID have potential, Buckthorne offered to teach him more, like an 'apprentice' so to speak, impressed by what already DID see in the kid, for his age. True, their 'lessons' had been rare, they spent more time practicing the skill on their own in real situations, then telling the other later all about it, on how well or bad it was or could have been, tipping each other. Farrel grinned, smugly. "-Maybe not... but if so, then I DO wonder how I came into possession of 'this'..." From his baggy tunic, he produced an expensive item of obvious value, something rare for an orphan to even DREAM of coming across. Buckthorne stared on, looking impressed. "Wow... not bad... not bad at all, if I say so myself." Really... that's not something everyone can easily conceal... but you pulled it off, Farr." Good job!" His young 'apprentice' beamed with pride. "Thanks... and know what?" I've been practicing on the 'brush-swipe' move lately... I think I've got better." "-That so?" Well then, let's see a live-performance, shall we?" Buckthorne picked up a random item from the table nearby, and put it into his pocket. "-Ready, 'rookie'?" "Sure am, 'wolfie'!" And so, they both walked towards each other, like two strangers on a sidewalk, and as the wolf passed by, Farrel did the said technique, which had the object out of Buckthorne's pocket and in his hand. They both stopped, and turned back around. The younger boy held up the item. "-So?" How'd I do?" Like any 'master' to his 'apprentice' Buckthorne didn't lie to him, no oversmoothering praise just to make him feel good or whatnot, but at least nothing too harsh if there was something to criticize in a constructive matter. "-I think you're right... you did get some better at that!" Still tho, few things to mind... you're still a little bit too quick in taking it... remember one of the most important rules... you wanna take it swift enough so they don't feel anything... but yet, restrain your speed enough so they don't suspect nothing-" Farrel took his words in, eagerly. He wasn't discouraged; he knew Buckthorne was much wiser on this than he, and four years his senior, so he respected the wolf's advice and critiques. He respected Buckthorne much more, even so. Either it didn't show that much or the wolf just didn't see it, but Farrel practically idolized Buckthorne. He saw him as like a big brother; someone he looked up to with such admiration and respect. The only problem was... as said, Buckthorne didn't seem to notice it. He had his own idol... Bullseye. Not in the sense of his crudeness towards women and whatnot, but moreso his will, strength and outwardness towards others. Bullseye wasn't someone who would sit or stand in a corner, face leaning towards the ground, awkwardly, tight-lipped mouth, and nervous darting glance-like expression. No, Bullseye was out there with the best of them, staring people down, appearing quite confident, and shouting out whatever and at whoever he damn well wanted to; speaking his mind. What Buckthorne wouldn't give to be able to be more like that... to dump out his paranoid, shell-shocked and depressing mind, and be someone else. If only he'd look around and see his good traits, and the people who DID appreciate him for who he was... "-Ah kay... I gotcha," Farrel nodded, taking the advice. Buckthorne nodded in turn. "-Yeah... just keep at it, kid." There was a pause. Farrel then spoke, "-So... hey tonight's the day you sit in the mess hall, ain't it?" We could talk some more about how-" Buckthorne shifted uneasily. "-Right... actually was just about to mention... see, kinda change of plans tonight." Me and Bullseye well... more him... not exactly up for it today... long story... or day, more like it..." he explained, his voice trailing off. "-Oh..." Farrel said. "I see..." Another unnoticed fact; Farrel didn't think much of Bullseye... not since the day the warthog had called him a 'wet pup', pretty much hinting that he thought Farrel was just a little annoying kid, which had not sat well with the young boy at all. His expression immediately fell, replaced with a rather upset and disappointed look, in such a way, Buckthorne panged with guilt. So he quickly added, "-But hey... Melony said something about coming in another night, tomorrow or day after, maybe so-" The wolf was relieved to see a hopeful look on Farrel's face. "-Oh, cool!" Yeah, that'd be good!" Okay... alright, I'll see ya soon, then?" "-Count on it," Buckthorne promised him. "Later then Farrel... good to have ya back!" "-Thanks, Buckthorne!" Bye!" And the two both made their way back to their rooms, feeling better.
Needless to say, the wolf was quite grateful to get out of the room. All the bickering and snapping with Bullseye had him feeling a bit stressed out. He mused over the fact that he'd gotten into as many arguments with his friend in those forty minutes that they regularly only had in about forty DAYS. Maybe not THAT much, but the idea was put into clarity. Buckthorne gave a heavy sigh. He didn't LIKE fighting; it certainly wasn't his thing, especially not with his best friend. It grumbled his guts to be on bad terms with Bullseye, and his depression was enough already. But these thoughts were pushed back temporarily as the wolf tried to think of a good excuse to tell Nurse Melony for the request of being absent at the mess hall that night. Nice timing for Bullseye to go 'mental'; he and Buckthorne only ate dinner with the younger orphans once a week, and tonight happened to be that night of the week. The rest of the time, they would eat in the old pantry two rooms away, which was unofficially 'their' kitchen considering they were the only ones who used the fridge, sink, and tables in it. The young wolf finally arrived at another door down the hall, and knocked. A warm gentle voice invited him in, and upon entering, was received by the kindly female sheepdog. "-Why hello, Buckthorne hun." How are ya?" He put on a smile for her. One of the few females that DIDN't make him nervous, thank God. "-Can't complain," he responded. LIAR!!! his conscience screamed. He ignored it, of course. "And you?" "-Oh, I be alright." Keeping plenty busy, thank goodness," Nurse Melony said, brightly. "All of you youngins growin' so fast, so many of you, and such energy, I can hardly keep up!" Just hope you dear little souls are all gettin' enough love... I'd hate to think I'm neglecting anyone!" Buckthorne shook his muzzle. "-That's not possible, Mel; if anything you love us all TOO much!" The adult female gave a chuckle. "-Oh, hun, there's no such thing as too much love!" You're such a sweet boy." A tinge of pink flushed onto the teen's cheek. It was like a mother telling her son she was proud; something as an orphan, Buckthorne missed alot from his real parents. Well really, he plain missed them being ALIVE, moreso. Melony was like a breath of fresh air, to the love-hungry young wolf. The nurse then noticed the same absence that the guys from earlier had. "-So where would Bullseye be?" Buckthorne licked his lips. "-That's actually the reason I came around..." Melony gave him a look. "-Oh?" "-Well... see... I know how we're supposed to be at the mess hall tonight and-" "-Oh yes, that, I was actually just about to come over and tell you two to be ready to come up in about fifteen minutes." A pang of guilt twinged the teenage male. But knowing that Bullseye was in no fit mood for that kind of socializing, he continued, "-Uhhh... that's the problem... see... to be honest, I don't think Bullseye's up to it today." The female was immediately concerned. "Is everything alright?" "Yeah, he's okay... he's just... kinda... in a mood of... well 'sorts'... had a long day, so to speak." "-Oh... that's a shame," the nurse, commented. "Well alright, I guess you can come in tomorrow or whenever he's feeling better." I'll stop by and check on you two later, alright?" And oh, when you're hungry, just go on in and help yourselves in the main kitchen." Don't want my boys starving, now." Buckthorne nodded. "Sure thing." Thanks Mel." "Anytime hun," she smiled. "Take care now!"
Sighing heavily, Buckthorne closed the door behind him. Well, at least that part was over. Good old Melony; she was always so understanding and sweet... it was as if she refused to believe anything bad said about them. Like what about all those women that Bullseye slept with... no, no, she'd proclaim it was a bunch of nonsense; Bullseye was ANGEL, without a bad bone in his body. Buckthorne knew the truth of course, but how on Mobius could he rat on his friend like that, and be responsible for putting a horrified and disgusted look on Melony's face? No... he couldn't do that. He didn't have it in him. The wolf sighed again, blowing his black hair out of his eyes. Just then, a voice came from behind him. "-Buckthorne?" Hey!" He turned around, to see the owner of the voice. At seeing who it was, one of the wolf's rare smiles crossed his face. "-Farrel!" he exclaimed, obviously surprised. "Long time no see!" "-You got that right!" the said 'Farrel' replied, as they shook hands, heartily. Farrel was one of the orphans, like Buckthorne, except he was some over four years younger. His species was one of the more unidentified hybrid-type Mobians; he had dark, drab color patches of skin, and a various range of traits that suggested along the lines of reptilian or insective and bird-like even. His talon like feet were like that of a raven, three long-finger-clawed hands like a lizard, and multiple legs/tentacles and antennae like a cockroach or beetle. Yet he was a very friendly face to see once you got to know him. Also like the wolf, Farrel had became orphaned at a young age. Much younger, in fact. He'd been a tiny infant, when his mother had come to the orphanage, begging for shelter from the harsh winter weather. It had been one of the coldest nights in Mobotropolis that December, and Farrel's mother, determined to keep her baby safe from the cold, had practically bundled him in almost every bit of clothing she had, save for a cloak and thin, ragged dress. When the nurses had found her frantically clawing at the door, she was literally freezing in the storm, her skin almost blue. Farrel, luckily, was snug and warm in the layers of clothing, and fast asleep when they brought him in. His mother sadly, however, didn't survive the night. Knowing that her son was safe though, she had died with hope for her child. Before she had died, they had questioned her where her husband and the baby's father was, she had wearily replied, "-Gone..." And so, Farrel was alone, no surviving or known relatives to be spoken of. However, fourteen years later, to date, Farrel HAD been recently adopted, which was the main reason why Buckthorne was surprised to see him back here at the orphanage. "-So yeah... wow!" I mean... how you been, Farrel?" Last I heard, you got-" "Oh that, yeah," his friend cut in, trying to appear casual about it. "I had a nice place there with the Brocks for awhile... but eh... I've decided it's not for me." The wolf was confused, at this odd tone. "-What do you mean... 'not for you'?" Still trying to sound like it was no big deal, Farrel went on, "-Well actually, it was more like... 'them' thinking I wasn't good enough or something... real crazy talk, huh?" The bright face that Buckthorne had worn merely a moment ago, was now replaced with a crestfallen and sympathetic look, his eyebrows furrowed upwards, mouth slightly open and his ears lowered. "-Oh... Farrel-" "-Hey really, it's no big deal," his friend insisted. "I'm fine; I don't need them anyways." Never did." Sure he looked calm about it on the outside, but Buckthorne knew better. He was all too familiar with the hungry, loved-starved cry of an orphan's soul, and he could hear Farrel's being ruthlessly shot down like a peasant. He tried to reassure his companion on the matter. "-Farr, I'm-" Knowing what the wolf was trying to do, Farrel's gentle tone suddenly turned brustesque. "-I don't wanna talk about it!!!" he blurted out, angrily. Buckthorne immediately stopped. He watched silently as his friend went red faced, with embarrassment, and turned away from him, blinking furiously. After all, it wasn't easy for a young boy to cry in front of a bigger one, or for an orphan to realize and admit he was unwanted. The elder male wished he could help his friend, but knowing that attitude all too well, he knew Farrel was not ready for comfort yet. Right now, he just wanted to forget. You couldn't blame him either, he had a right to. There was silence between the pair. At last, when Farrel seemed to have ahold of himself again, he said, with some small satisfaction, "-At least... I didn't leave that place empty-handed." Buckthorne's attention was caught. One kindred 'klepto' thought heard the other and flickered to life. "-You didn't..." the wolf mused, yet smiling somewhat deviously, as if he seemed PROUD. This was normal, considering their situation. Buckthorne, as a youth, had discovered his rather interesting talent of deft and swiftness of hands, able to make objects almost 'vanish', in a quick swipe, brush, or snap. Luckily he wasn't exactly a thief, least not to those considered 'good' people. But nonetheless, he admired this strange skill of his. Farrel, even younger, had watched and heard of Buckthorne's talent from a somewhat 'afar' word from other orphans, and had expressed a similar liking to the 'skill' and so, had sought the wolf out, asking to see his 'style'. The wolf was undoubtably better than Farrel, but seeing that the younger boy DID have potential, Buckthorne offered to teach him more, like an 'apprentice' so to speak, impressed by what already DID see in the kid, for his age. True, their 'lessons' had been rare, they spent more time practicing the skill on their own in real situations, then telling the other later all about it, on how well or bad it was or could have been, tipping each other. Farrel grinned, smugly. "-Maybe not... but if so, then I DO wonder how I came into possession of 'this'..." From his baggy tunic, he produced an expensive item of obvious value, something rare for an orphan to even DREAM of coming across. Buckthorne stared on, looking impressed. "Wow... not bad... not bad at all, if I say so myself." Really... that's not something everyone can easily conceal... but you pulled it off, Farr." Good job!" His young 'apprentice' beamed with pride. "Thanks... and know what?" I've been practicing on the 'brush-swipe' move lately... I think I've got better." "-That so?" Well then, let's see a live-performance, shall we?" Buckthorne picked up a random item from the table nearby, and put it into his pocket. "-Ready, 'rookie'?" "Sure am, 'wolfie'!" And so, they both walked towards each other, like two strangers on a sidewalk, and as the wolf passed by, Farrel did the said technique, which had the object out of Buckthorne's pocket and in his hand. They both stopped, and turned back around. The younger boy held up the item. "-So?" How'd I do?" Like any 'master' to his 'apprentice' Buckthorne didn't lie to him, no oversmoothering praise just to make him feel good or whatnot, but at least nothing too harsh if there was something to criticize in a constructive matter. "-I think you're right... you did get some better at that!" Still tho, few things to mind... you're still a little bit too quick in taking it... remember one of the most important rules... you wanna take it swift enough so they don't feel anything... but yet, restrain your speed enough so they don't suspect nothing-" Farrel took his words in, eagerly. He wasn't discouraged; he knew Buckthorne was much wiser on this than he, and four years his senior, so he respected the wolf's advice and critiques. He respected Buckthorne much more, even so. Either it didn't show that much or the wolf just didn't see it, but Farrel practically idolized Buckthorne. He saw him as like a big brother; someone he looked up to with such admiration and respect. The only problem was... as said, Buckthorne didn't seem to notice it. He had his own idol... Bullseye. Not in the sense of his crudeness towards women and whatnot, but moreso his will, strength and outwardness towards others. Bullseye wasn't someone who would sit or stand in a corner, face leaning towards the ground, awkwardly, tight-lipped mouth, and nervous darting glance-like expression. No, Bullseye was out there with the best of them, staring people down, appearing quite confident, and shouting out whatever and at whoever he damn well wanted to; speaking his mind. What Buckthorne wouldn't give to be able to be more like that... to dump out his paranoid, shell-shocked and depressing mind, and be someone else. If only he'd look around and see his good traits, and the people who DID appreciate him for who he was... "-Ah kay... I gotcha," Farrel nodded, taking the advice. Buckthorne nodded in turn. "-Yeah... just keep at it, kid." There was a pause. Farrel then spoke, "-So... hey tonight's the day you sit in the mess hall, ain't it?" We could talk some more about how-" Buckthorne shifted uneasily. "-Right... actually was just about to mention... see, kinda change of plans tonight." Me and Bullseye well... more him... not exactly up for it today... long story... or day, more like it..." he explained, his voice trailing off. "-Oh..." Farrel said. "I see..." Another unnoticed fact; Farrel didn't think much of Bullseye... not since the day the warthog had called him a 'wet pup', pretty much hinting that he thought Farrel was just a little annoying kid, which had not sat well with the young boy at all. His expression immediately fell, replaced with a rather upset and disappointed look, in such a way, Buckthorne panged with guilt. So he quickly added, "-But hey... Melony said something about coming in another night, tomorrow or day after, maybe so-" The wolf was relieved to see a hopeful look on Farrel's face. "-Oh, cool!" Yeah, that'd be good!" Okay... alright, I'll see ya soon, then?" "-Count on it," Buckthorne promised him. "Later then Farrel... good to have ya back!" "-Thanks, Buckthorne!" Bye!" And the two both made their way back to their rooms, feeling better.
