Greatwater Lake Scrawny Motherfucker with a Cool Hairstyle

Aleister had resigned himself to the belief many moons ago that expecting others to understand him ever again was a fool's dream. The piebald boy seemed to be proving him wrong.

Initially, as the stranger begins to walk closer, Aleister is certain that the man is misunderstanding him and he huffs out a harsh breath, narrowing his eyes and beginning to raise from his former position. Just as he had begins to turn away, ready to start off in the opposite direction, a movement from the stranger catches his eye. He was..what the fuck is he doing? Is he- is he mocking him? Aleister lip curls slightly, he's gonna give this bastard hell if he-

He's touching his ears.
He's touching his ears.

Aleister's silver gaze meets the other's eyes immediately, flicking back and forth between his ears and his paws every few seconds. It's not- he can't...is he? The movement becomes even clearer, and Aleister realizes he has no clue what to do next. This never...This is happening.
He nods frantically, like a crazed man, his eyelashes fluttering rapidly as a disbelieving grin breaks from his maw. He's still in shock, and he can feel the high thrum produced from his throat as he smiles down at the boy. Before he can stop himself, he's stepping forward closer to the boy, his tail wagging rapidly, and he decides. He may as well.

Carefully, gently, slowly, he tries.
His name.
He knows it. He knows it better than he knows any of the snippets of words he keeps pressed inside the walls of his throat, and he holds it dear to him, but he thinks he can share it now.
He does.