Sun Mote Copse Dance of the sugar plum fairy.

Hurt flashed briefly in Penn's eyes as he was rejected. He deserved to be, of course. He'd yelled at her, and it wasn't like he'd ever made a habit of treating her kindly before. Still, he felt his gut sink at her words, coldness slipping through his veins as she walked away. He corrected himself quickly, though, masking the pain with a roll of his eyes as he looked away and found himself peering unexpectedly at a black foreleg stretched across his chest. He blinked up at Towhee and his feigned exasperation was replaced with surprise. Had she been there all along?

Penn's face contorted into a soft frown when she began to speak. He'd never taken the time to talk to her before and if ever she'd tried to talk to him, he hadn't paid her any attention. She tried to reassure him, which he found to be aggravating as it suggested she had seen the hurt. He didn't like for anyone to see him as weak, and things like concern and feelings boo-boos definitely spoke of weakness.

So, he switched his expression again to one of nonchalance as he gave a shrug and another roll of his eyes. "She's probably just being a fuckin' weirdy, more like," he corrected her with a sly grin, "Which isn't actually weird at all for her." He shrugged again.

Towhee's next question made him pause. He peered quizzically at her as he said, "Um... Yes?" Penn, of course, considered himself to be great at everything. Whether he actually was is anyone's guess (he's not). He didn't know why Towhee had suddenly deemed it so important that it needed to be the second thing she'd ever said to him, though. Maybe Sugar wasn't the only weirdy.