Blacktail Deer Plateau hey mr no name kid

The familiar stutter and blushing and all-around awkwardness— all of these things Feline would've described as brazenly Max-esque. She loved them so much it hurt. She could feel the months that separated them so clearly now: the definite severing, the rambling days that came after the event that she would never name and try not to think about ever, like a drunk man's sprawling footprints in the snow. Feline wanted to scream at the unfairness of it all.

Gods, she had thought that she was an unfeeling and rageful cynic. It had turned out that she was correct, but only on the rageful bit. She needed to break something.

"Well, you thought wrong," she says heatedly, her bottom lip jutted out to hide the quivering chin, the hackles over her neck and chest raised. "They did something even worse." Feline stares at her, or does the best she can through a film of tears. It was much easier that way. She bows her head when Max moves forwards. She isn't so sure if a hug would comfort her. She is slightly more sure that a touch would really set her off to explode.