[Ziera]

Originally Posted by Dipper

Owlish, Fawnsqueak wondered if this.. was an appropriate distance. (No distance was an appropriate distance after he'd spent a while staring at the guy, then sauntered over here as if he needed an even closer look.) Lifting a paw as if to back up, he hesitated, then put it down again. If he lost his nerve now, he wouldn't be regaining it. He'd spend the rest of the day huddled in the stupid medicine cat's den ruminating on his social failures. At least if he convinced Stormtalon to accompany him, he could ruminate on ShadowClan's destruction AND his social failures. (Tens of times better.)

Fawnsqueak could've claimed he was on the brink of a greeting when Stormtalon beat him to it (claimed, lied, same difference) -- and he was taken aback by the brazen assumption!.. That happened to be completely accurate. He didn't like it.

"I was going to tell you that you look like a freaking weirdo sitting alone all the time," he hotly remarked, his intentions skewed when it came out wrong, quite the deviation from a simple fact in his own moment of frustrated embarrassment. It was a sentiment he was all too familiar with, also a weirdo by all definitions. His sharp tongue had the tips of his ears flaming, and he sputtered to continue, "But if you're offering, yeah, I'll take you up on that favor."

Stormtalon grinned at Fawnsqueak’s retort despite himself, shoulders relaxing from the tension brought about by unexpected socializing. The tabby tom enjoyed this kind of pushback, finding it more entertaining than small talk—which he loathed. His leaf-green eyes glinted with mirth. Was it true? Of course. Did he care? No.

“Thoughtful of you,” Stormtalon purred. “You’re not wrong.” He managed to hold back the part of him that almost said Fawnsqueak didn’t need to sit alone all the time to look like a ‘freaking weirdo’—it came naturally.

The reddish-brown tom proceeded to struggle.

Stormtalon empathized with this struggle a little. Storm, for his part, was an adept conversationalist. In a battle of wits, he liked to think he was a match for any cat.…though he struggled in exchanges with emotional depth. You know, pretty much all the important ones? Stormtalon also lacked a sensor for insensitivity, forcing him to rely on his more empathetic friends to explain where he went wrong if he caused offense. The tom’s most common violation was telling the truth too directly; so he was told, anyway. What favor could Fawnsqueak possibly ask? Stormtalon’s ears twitched. He had no idea, and he hated that he was intrigued.

“What can I help you with, Fawnsqueak?”