Fox's Glade Get nothing done

There was a mix of emotions in him when the other acted like he was hurt. He felt some sort of weird pull to make him feel better. Just like his mother would after she had hurt him. She would tell him all sorts of horrible things, or bite at him and make him hurt, and then when he had finally had enough, she would pull him close to her chest and whisper that she was sorry and that she didn't mean to. On the other hand, there was the pull to be even worse. Had he really reached the top level of being mean yet? And it felt so good to be mean. It felt so good to make someone else look hurt, even though he didn't like the negative emotions that came with it, too.

His nose twitched while he stood in indecision for a second or ten. The truth hurts, said Charles, even though he knew he had been lying. It wasn't the truth at all what he'd been saying. Charles, rather than distance himself, came closer, and even though he wasn't doing anything else comforting -- quite the opposite, actually -- tried touching his nose to the other's shoulder. Even that he didn't know what he was doing (though the truth was that he was giving in to his initial feelings of guilt and the desire to comfort after his rude comment).