Blackfeather Woods the friends inside of my head

Cicero didn't seem as hopeful as he, and Scamp's eyes again fell warmly on the bicolored man. He was speaking again, but the only words he knew the meaning of were his Masters name. Love? Great? Each word was stored in the back of his mind, both positive things, but the actual definition of which was unknown. One day, he would know them all! Just don't tell him about other languages. Cicero's inner thoughts were as hidden as his actual words, and Scamp could only tip his head with a questioning whine.