Capochin recognizes the face, and nearly greets the strange but clever artist who sketched him not too long ago, but frowns at his demeanor immediately.
The words are far from untrue. In the wake of his own performance, the second grand artistic memorial to his failure in recent history, an old ache in his heart gnaws at him once more. And any other time, he might think nothing of trusting Pyotr, a fond acquaintance from his first days in Pumpkin Hollow. But there's something about the eyes, the voice, the posture...
Capochin's own posture becomes defensive. Closed-off. Hostile. Second nature to one who grew up in Drain, taught young how not to get mugged. His tail bristles. "I can take care of it myself."
anodyne
The words are far from untrue. In the wake of his own performance, the second grand artistic memorial to his failure in recent history, an old ache in his heart gnaws at him once more. And any other time, he might think nothing of trusting Pyotr, a fond acquaintance from his first days in Pumpkin Hollow. But there's something about the eyes, the voice, the posture...
Capochin's own posture becomes defensive. Closed-off. Hostile. Second nature to one who grew up in Drain, taught young how not to get mugged. His tail bristles. "I can take care of it myself."