Shadowwyn Moor You want fries with that?

It feels so weird to play a character without worries!

The silence following Fry’s outburst and Mac’s single, commanding bark had been initially disconcerting, but as a peaceful smile shaped the level-headed Newfoundland’s jowls, his golden companion immediately relaxed. This wasn’t so different, then, from the slightly terrifying times the Family went out. French Fry had no real conception of time, and therefore the hours he’d been apart from the Family felt fairly standard. He understood snacks. When it came to snacks, French Fry was known to act with an initiative rarely seen by — well, rarely seen by anyone since the beginning of ever. At the mere mention of them, French Fry whined eagerly, tossing his head like a spirited horse as he began to salivate.

“I like snacks,” the chubby Golden Retriever said confidently, with the proud flourish of a scientist who has discovered some fantastic breakthrough.

“What would you like to do?”

The possibilities, it seemed, were endless. With the weight of the world balanced precariously in his flighty paws, French Fry scarcely seemed to know what to do with himself. Unbeknownst to the two lost boys, famine had settled a weighty hand upon the Teekon Wilds. Getting snacks of any kind was out of the question. Fortunately for Mac, hunger was the furthest thing from Fry’s addled mind despite his general status as a stomach with legs. “Well, we’re wild animals now,” French Fry said, trying to sound as reasonable as possible. “We should do everything that makes the Family say, ‘Quit acting like a wild animal! Were you raised in a barn?!’ Mac. Mac. We should — ” His eyes darted shiftily about before fixing with vivid intensity on Mac’s face. “ — we should go crazy.”