Bramblepoint Lost... Again.

At first the dude seemed to be tense, but then he relaxed visibly when he laid eyes on Charles. Not something the coywolf was really used to, and he wondered now if it was because of his coyote blood. Then again, didn't everyone just run into trouble along the way? It couldn't be just him, right? Draper's words had made Charles consider this more carefully and he didn't realise how he was often met with negativity or scrutiny until Draper had pointed out that wolves hated coyotes. Charles had just always thought that he was treated that way because he was ugly trash.

Charles was just about to ask this dude what his deal was and why he was staring at him when he suddenly burst out in introduction. Spot? Charles repeated, caught off guard by the strange name. What sort of name is that? There was jest in his voice, but not without the undertone of a sneer. Making others feel bad about their dumb-ass things -- looks, name, actions, whatever he could latch on to -- always did wonders to make Charles feel better about his own.

You don't know what you looking for? Charles asked and he squinted his eyes as if he might suspect that Spot was kinda daft. After another short pause he added: I'm Charles.