"C'mon, dude! Don't be a pussy!" A black and white skunk inhaled white clouds from a slender glass tube, but quickly pulled back as he coughed and hacked. "Dude, you're a pussy!" Bailey yipped from across from him.

"I ca-" He gags and coughs some more. "I can't!" He passes the device to Malcolm who was sitting next to him.

"Oh, Robby. We'll soon make an iron-lunged toker out of you yet!" She laughed. Mac pressed the tube up to his mouth and lit the bowl on the very end, inhaling an even greater cloud than Rob's. He let the smoke out smoothly without a single choke.

"I can't do this shit with a bong! Gimme somethin' easier, like that pipe you had yesterday!" Mac chuckles.

"Ras? That pipe is back at my place, bub. C'mon, y'ain't gonna get any better tokin' with some weak shit like that. That was my first piece I ever bought."

"Stole you mean?" Bailey corrects him with a smile.

"Yeah, that thing I do, but I prefer to call it 'donating to the needy'. I was needy and needed a pipe, and it was gettin' tiresome always using old bottles and cans." He passes the bong to Bailey.

"I'm surrounded by criminal drug addicts." Rob commented.

"Criminal? Probably. Drug addicts? Hell nah! I ain't about that life!" Bailey replies throwing her lighter at Mac. "Gimme your lighter. Mine's out." Mac throws the lighter at her.

"Don't pocket that. It's the last one I got." She waves her lighter hand in acknowledgement and lights the bowl. Like Mac, she takes a large hit without a problem, and passes it on to Rob.

"Nah, I think I'm good." He replies. She looks at Mac and shrugs her shoulders, passing the smoking device to him.

"Your loss, bud." Before he can take a hit a knock at the door interrupts them.

"Put it behind that couch!" Rob growls, pointing at the bong. Mac does as he says, and him and Bailey take a seat on the couch. Rob opens the door hesitantly, but loosens up when he recognizes who it is. "Eeyyyy, what up guys? Was practice let out early?" He takes a step back to let the guests come in. Mac moans when he recognizes the Wolf and Raven who'd given him a rough time the other day.

"Yeah, coach seems pretty confident in us, so he let us go early." The raven replies. Both are still wearing their dirty baseball uniforms. "Says if we win this next game it'll be the first time in fifteen years that Kingston makes it to the playoffs." The wolf looks around the room until his eyes rest on Mac. A sinister smile spreads across his face.

"Hey, Macaroon! What are the odds of running into you here?" He swaggers is way over to the couch, and slides in between Mac and Bailey. He wraps an arm around Mac's Mack and puts him in a headlock. The strong stench of alcohol waifs across Mac's nose. "I've missed ya, buddy." He tightens his grip.

"C'mon, dude. Leave him alone." Bailey snaps. He looks over at her.

"Who you callin 'dude'? Have you looked at yourself lately?" He laughs. "Get outta my face you cross-dressing he-bitch." Without thinking Mac elbows him in the gut, and punches him in the snout. Marshall grabs his nose. "You little shit!" He grabs Mac by the throat and slams him to the ground, blood gushing from his nose. "I'll teach you for attacking me like that." He jabs him a few times in the side, and once to the face.

"Yo, Marsh! Chill the fuck out!" Rob shouts, grabbing Marshall's arm before he can lay another hit. Marshall holds Mac in place for a few more seconds, contemplating if he should wale on the Hedgewolf or not, but decides not to. He grabs Mac by the collar of his shirt, and hauls him up to his feet.

"Yer luck I don't knock your ass out right now, rodent. Get the hell outta my sight before I change my mind." Without a moment to spare Mac grabs the bong from behind the couch, and limps out of the house. The raven, who's still standing by the doorway, gives him a rough shove with his shoulder.

"Watch where ya goin', mate!" He squawks. Bailey hurries after, giving the Raven a shove back as she jogs down the stairs.

Bailey rounds the corner to find Mac in one of the many abandoned allies of Kingston.

"FUCK!" He shouts punching at the brick wall. She runs up and grabs his arm before he can pound on the wall some more.

"Dude, chill it!" He tears his arm away, and whips around to meet her gaze, eyes flooded with hate.

"Why?! Why should I!? Would it really make a difference?!" He whips back around, and smashes his fist into the wall once more. Bailey jumps in between him and the wall before he could land another punch. "MOVE!"

"No." She gently grabs his paw, and lowers it. "You need to calm down. This isn't you. Just breath, and talk to me. Don't hurt yourself anymore." He hesitantly lowers his fist.

"I'm sorry." He leans back into the opposite wall, and slides down. Bailey looks down at the sticky, crimson liquid on her paws. She needs down in front of him, and grabs his paw.

"You okay?" She asks looking at the bloodied paw. He winces as she pinches at one of the knuckles.

"Fine." He whines through gritted teeth.

"Sure, okay." She takes off her hoodie, and wipes off the blood revealing the torn flesh. "Fine, are you?" She says doubtfully.

"Yes. I'm just fiINE!" He yelps as she pinches at his knuckle.

"I think you broke it." He glares at her.

"The hell I did! Maybe if you weren't pinching at it so hard." She wraps his paw up in her hoodie.

"Hmm, nah. 'Twas all your doing, bub." He looks down at his feet, silent. "You wanna talk?" He looks up, and gives a small smile.

"Nah, I think the wall and I 'talked' enough." He chuckles. Bailey stands up, and reaches out with a paw.

"C'mon. I wanna go home and take a nap, And I have a feeling you do too."

"Fine, but I'm taking a nap at your house. It's closer." He reaches out for her paw and stands up.

"Whatever, dude. You get the couch though." She chuckles. They make their way out of the ally, and down the street back to Bailey's house.

"Nope. Off." Bailey tells Mac who's sprawled out on her bed. "My bed."

"What?"

"Off."

"What?"

"Imma hit you." Mac opens one eye, and lazily throws up a middle finger. "Fine." She sits down on the end of her bed, and removes her shoes.

"I'm sorry." She looks over a Mac.

"Nah, dude. It's chill."

"I mean about earlier today. My little episode." She looks at him for a moment, and proceeds to take off her other shoe. "I-I put you through a lot of stress, yet you still stick by me. I take that shit for granted, and I feel bad. I don't mean to-"

"PSHT!" She throws he paw up in his face. "Dude, you're like a brother to me. We've been friends since we were pups." She lays back and rests her head on his stomach, and chuckles, "'Like my brother'."

"What?"

"Out of all four of my brothers you're the only person I'd really ever consider my brother. They don't like who I am, or how I dress, but you don't care. You never did. Never questioned me once. You're an amazing person no matter what ANYONE says. Yeah, you have your moments, but who doesn't. I don't blame you for your anger bursts. It seems you never get a break from life, yet you're still here. You're probably the strongest person I've ever met. You keep a level head when shit gets bad. I don't know how you do it, man. I really don't. I just...hmh..." She trails off. "I'm sorry. I talk too much." Mac laughs,

"No, please go on. I love it when people tell me how great I am."

"You're an asshole." They laugh.

"Thanks though." He replies quietly. "I-I really needed that." He pats her on the head. "You're a good kid. I like your face." She bursts out laughing.

"Wow. Thank you. That really came from the heart, didn't it?"

"Of course." He pats her face. "Imma nap now."

"Good. I was waiting for you to shut up." Mac grunts, and rests a paw on her head.

He closes his eyes, and listens to her breath slow to a steady rhythm. He reaches a paw around, and pulls off his Rasta coloured bracelet revealing the fresh razor scars not even a day old. He rubs at the mutilated flesh, ears folded back against his head.

"I'm so sorry..." He whispers putting his paw back on her head.