Bitterroot Valley A Strange Kindness

He smiled at her righteousness. Her indignation. All a jest, as she came to sit beside him in due time, furs mingling ever so slightly. Content with this, he gave a low hum in acknowledgement of her closeness, appreciative of it.
An awake day, she said, and Barrett nodded. It was good, he thought, that she had a name for it. That she knew what she was experiencing. He felt, maybe, that he had known people that had once been the opposite; those with problems that they did not understand, that they could not possibly comprehend, and it had made it all the more difficult when it came to trying to solve those issues. It seemed that Twitch, at the very least, had a head-start.
She gave him her 'excuse', and then subsequently asked for his. Tryna get the hang of workin' with hides, he told her, gesturing to the rabbit that he cradled in his paws like a newborn. Figured it'd be better to start smaller, so I don't fuck up one'a the bigger pelts, like an elk, or somethin', but, with a pointed look directed to the rabbit, he said. It's on my bucket list, though. Gonna work myself a lovely hide, one day, accompanied by a firm nod.
As if, perhaps, he could will such a thing into existence.

Now, he returned to working on the rabbit, carefully, carefully using his claws to hook beneath the skin and slicing it precisely from the skin. His voice came forth once more, gravelly and low, and yet his voice was quieter, as if asking something intimate, or, perhaps, sharing a secret:
Would'ya like this when I'm done?

He did not look up from his work.