The Floodlands You never go to parties.

Wait, she was actually interested? And then there was that old nonsensical nickname.  He didn't know what to think about someone here using it at least, his ears tipping slightly -- it was weird to hear it again.  There were a few good memories smashed in there with all the bad ones, a few attached to those who called him that.   Really, though, as long as he knew what to respond to, he'd deal with it.  Still less names than his father.  Uh, suppose I can see about trying to remember enough of them for something more coherent and longer than a few sentences.  Not gonna do a whole one at length -- I'd probably mangle it too badly that way.

But planting trees?  Hm.  How did they decide where to grow?  Why weren't they growing everywhere?  Then -- 'future generations.'  What a nice little phrase to make a paranoid man's stomach lurch.  At least it was just something people say, not directly at him, so he kept his composure without a real problem.  I wouldn't know whe---  Fwoosh, away went X, along with Towhee's attention. '---Where to begin.'   Quixote took a moment to draw in a deep breath and put his mind in order while her eyes were elsewhere.

For his sake, it was a good thing that Towhee said it, and with X taking off, Quixote felt like he owed the bird a mouse.  He'd stopped thinking that he had needed to keep his cards close to his chest, as if the  chance of Raven being raised had only been an option at the beginning.  Even then, he still was caught off-guard a bit, his brain stuttering, Rave-? Oh, Raven -- yeah.  I've run into her a few times since the move.  Ahahaha.  Thank god he'd been kind of awkward around her since the promotion -- maybe she wouldn't notice a thing, Since there's still some snow left in places, I suppose it's not much of a rush.  I could talk to her about it next I run into her?  Oh please give him an escape.  He needed to get out of here ASAP so he didn't say something stupid -- he couldn't hear himself think over all that internal screaming.