#(this kids is what we call a ✨fear response ✨ caused by severe trauma YAY)

[wrong-place-at-the-wrong-time]

While SiVior was having the time of its life, Warren has gone... Uncharacteristically stiff and quiet at being bound in such a way. He's so stiff and tense that his body trembles from the effort he put in to keep still, his claws seeming to be permanently flexed for the time being. Warren's breathing comes as short, strained panting, the cat closing his eyes so tight when SiVior rubs against his face. He does not respond. Not in the slightest bit.

(you made a grave mistake opening this 😼😼 GO MX SPRUNKI /silly)

[...]

[The creature stares back.]

Warren stands there for awhile, shifting his weight from foot to foot while smoking his cigarette... Their paws go from resting on his hips, to fitting snug in his pockets, to gripping the handle of it's scythe. He repeats these actions for a few silent minutes while studying SiVior. "...You ain't Simon. Who are you." Warren finally tilts his chin up a little, scratching his jaw while blowing smoke from his nostrils. "What do you want."