Greatwater Lake Scrawny Motherfucker with a Cool Hairstyle

When the other boy relaxed, Clarence rolled back onto his stomach and offered him a smile, hoping to keep him at ease. He was nothing to worry about, after all - Clarence was not a threat, in this mindspace. If they were both fortunate, they would not ever experience that side of him again. But that was just wishful thinking, the piebald boy considered. Was he recovering? Yes, he was. Did that mean he'd never have an incident again? It did not. 

Clarence was eased from his thinking by the stranger's behavior. 

His first thought was that doesn't look like a comfortable position, but that quickly became irrelevant when the question of why? rose in his mind. People didn't just do things for no reason, after all, did they? So there had to be a reason. It was up to Clarence to figure out what that was. 

Crimson eyes narrowed as he watched the display. Did the boy's back hurt? His head? His ears? It was becoming obvious that the problem here was with his ears. He tipped his head to the side and frowned when his own ear flopped over. 

After a moment of wracking his brain for an answer, it occurred to the boy that the stranger had yet to say a word. Maybe he didn't talk. But what did that have to do with...

Oh! 

The reason why hit him all at once. He couldn't hear. Maybe it was that Clarence needed to communicate differently. Maybe that was what the boy needed. The Nightwalker's tail wagged more furiously and he padded forward, dropping his own chest to the ground and flicking his ears deliberately. A lot of communication was nonverbal, anyway. He certainly didn't mind putting in a bit more effort.