Hushed Willows that's nice, that's a nice sentiment

no need to match the length! i got carried away, lol. :p

Banner commented on the Russian and he let out a soft laugh that rumbled pleasantly in his chest. She expressed her gratitude with warmness on his choice of birds but the conversation switched again, this time away from the topic of birds and onto him. He swallowed thickly, sticking to his silence as she asked him to tell her about him in a tiny voice. Buchanan wasn't quite sure that she was scared to ask him and if she wasn't that was ok; he was scared enough for the both of them. When he talked too much about things that had scarred him emotionally — his tail, for one — he had a tendency to suffer flashbacks. He didn't want Banner to see him like that: to realize that his compliance and control had it's own side of crazy and since Buchanan knew his triggers he tended to stray away from them as if they were the plague. Yet, it was a fair request that she made, even though she added in a murmur that he only had to tell her if he wanted to. He made a lot of vague references to The Officer and his past without ever willingly offering any explanations. Her curiosity was warranted and Buchanan knew this.

“Sometimes,” He began pausing to lick his jowls as they continued on with their patrol. “talking about things become triggers. Sometimes I get flashbacks.” As to how many triggers Buchanan had: he didn't know. He'd never spoken in length about his past with anyone before mostly because he'd never had anyone but The Officer. “The Officer took me when I was small, I was young enough that after a while I forgot my parents, forgot my name. He trained me, he...broke me and reforged me to how he wanted me: obedient, dependent upon him. Taught me how to kill and fight.” Buchanan's gaze fell to the ground beneath their paws, taking a moment to study the differences, needing the brief moment to remind him that, that was then and this was now. “When I was about six months old The Officer-” He swallowed thickly, around the air that stuck in his throat. A shudder ran down his spine but he focused his mind on his steps, on the sound of Banner's footfalls, his mercurial gaze wild for a moment as it sought her, trying to use Banner as an anchor to reality in the hopes that it might keep him from slipping into the memory. His breathing slowly became rapid and he fought against the memory, the flashback with a low grunt. The phantom pain in his docked tail had his teeth gnashing together — the ruined nerves in what was left of it were screaming. Buchanan fought against it, knowing that the only way to get past it was to confront his demons, to not let it and The Officer control his life anymore. He wasn't The Ghost anymore. He was Buchanan.

With a gasp Buchanan continued, “- The Officer docked my tail. It was his mark, his brand. To always remind me that he owned me, reminded me of my place as a peon.” Obviously, in some capacity The Officer had recognized that he would not live forever; and his brand was an effective reminder. “After the docking I was turned loose upon those he marked as his targets. I infiltrated, I lied and charmed and then I killed them.” There was no nice way to say it, no way to dress it up and make the ugly truth look pretty. He spared a look at her, wondering if knowing this, if knowing the truth would change how she thought of him. A strong part of Buchanan hoped that it did not for she had known to some degree what he was and what he had done. He'd said as much, vaguely. “All he had to do was say the goddamned word and I would do what he asked me, without question, without hesitation.” He had killed four wolves that he didn't know personally, that had never done anything to him simply because The Officer had told him to.

“The Officer made these tally marks for each kill. I'm missing one. It should be five,” Maybe he would figure out how to make it himself and carve it into his skin: the longest tally and the last. “My last mission went wrong,” Buchanan explained in a quieted voice, his brow furrowing with remembrance. “The Officer sent me to a pack and I infiltrated it easily enough. Except he didn't want me to kill, he wanted me to kidnap a small girl, barely three months old,” Buchanan had slipped into a whisper, his voice thick as he remembered it, trying to focus on their steps, on the familiar motions of patrolling, on Banner's presence again. “The Officer was an elder, though still fit and strong he had accepted his own mortality I guess. He meant for her to be trained to replace him. To continue on his work, to control me. She was small and innocent with big baby blue eyes and fur as white as down. I refused him. I wasn't going to willingly subject her to the same brutality and cruelty I had endured and whatever else he had planned for her. I wasn't going to steal from her the life she deserved to live. And The Officer and I fought and I ...I killed him.” Buchanan took a deep, uneven breath and peeked tentatively at Banner, half afraid of what he'd see in her face.