private heave, ho, down we go | watson




He's never been able to sleep well, long hours laying staring at the darkened walls of their run down den. It's a home most likely having belonged to twolegs at one point, now run down and in disrepair. The walls are teeming with the sounds of tiny running rodent feet and they want for nothing on most occasions. It's not something he normally has to think about and this early morning as dawn begins to bathe the world in soft pinks and oranges is no exception. A soft yawn pulls from his jaws as he arches his back in a stretch, another sleepless night, another early morning. His eyes crinkle as he lifts a paw to rub against them, pushing away the crusted snot that lingers as if he did partake in sleep. He is sure that Watson might like some good old breakfast and one of these mice should do nicely. Scampering over to the wall, he squeezes himself into the crawlspace between the walls, cream tail disappearing as he moves along the small space. It's almost claustrophobic with how cramp it is in here but it doesn't seem to bother him. With a small smile he pauses and listens, moves only when necessary because he knows there is a mice's nest closer by. And as soon as he gets close enough he slaps a paw down on two of them. It's over before the little beasts know what is going on and he grips them by the tail before awkwardly turning around.

A grunt and a wiggle later he manages to make his way out of the wall and into the dusty old space. A sniffle arises and he drops the mice gently upon the ground. "Mornin' Watson. I know it's kinda early but I figured you would like some breakfast. Something small will make your gullet happy." Personally he doesn't like heavy breakfasts and something light always makes him more agreeable in the mornings. Shuffling his paws a little he pushes one mouse towards him before pulling the other to himself. Crouching he takes a small bit out of it before chewing almost thoughtfully and then he completely lays down to enjoy his meal. "What are you goin' to do today? I figured we could go over and bother some of those silver tins. See if there are any good twoleg food in them. I know I saw one of 'em throw out some chicken. I'd love some of that." They could go for a stroll as well but he really wants to go for that chicken. Hopefully that big monster hasn't come and gobbled it up yet. Why those silver tins are okay with that thing picking them up he will never know.


wait around, i'll smile again

Watson stays loafed for hours, crinkled up in a miserable little ball and listening to the droplets of water pattering from a cracked sharp seeing-square in the wall. Even though he tries to ignore the thumps in the wall, his short ears begin to flick about. Watson aches and feels like his whole body is chilled from the morning dewfall by the time he finally stirs. "Mm..." Skittles is yammering something, something about a happy gullet. He's so strange.

Watson creaks open his cobnut eyes but doesn't even try to make himself presentable. His fur stays spiked in unusual ways and even part of it is half teased up like a frozen wave from where he leaned on the collapsed firemouth box. It reminds him of the living firemouth at home and how he would sit in his old twolegs' lap for a nap. The crusties stay in his eye too but at least he shakes off his fur before stretching. His legs pop like he hasn't moved in hours. He grumbles, "Must you be so loud?"

It's then that he looks down at the mouse and he tries not to grimace too hard. It's not that he is too good to eat mice but he misses his yummy shapes and soft, pillowy meat piles. Crunching a rodent's brittle bones and clogging fur for more than amusement but a necessity makes him feel dire dread. Like he'll never be in comfort again. Still, it's food and he's often hungry. "Thanks..." Hs places a paw over the carcass. At least it's warm.

As they eat, the tabby looks skeptical of Skittles' plan, mostly because he's too busy moping but also Watson's fearful. "The twoleg monster would eat us up if we were caught in the silvertins, mouse-brain." How alluring something like chicken is though. So familiar, so comforting. Much better than the rat he's nibbling. Maybe Skittles does know what he's talking about. After all, he is the street smart one here. "Though... chicken would be heavenly... and that monster is so loud. Hmph, some hunter it is! No wonder it needs the silvertins." It's ultimately decided then by how empty he still feels once the mouse is gone and so the tabby reluctantly nods.

As ungrateful as he may seem, he does trust Skittles. If it weren't for him, he'd still be curled up in that alley in the rain. Frozen in fear and devestation and as numb to the world as the silvertins.

Confusion glitters in his silver like orbs as he watches the other tom. Well, he supposes that he hasn't been the most quiet this morning but he is definitely sure that he has used his inside voice. Either way he smiles a little and is just happy that the tom is eating like he should. He doesn't want him to starve even if it is food he is not quite used to. Personally he finds the warm prey palatable given that he has had to eat it since he was born. He especially likes the taste of bird which is why he wants to go and get some of that good old garbage chicken. Shifting his paws a little he leans over to inspect the other tom's fur and he sniffles a bit. "Let me just...." Without saying anything else he leans over and starts to groom the other's pelt. Dust gathers on his tongue, debris tasking of old dirt and soil. But he's fine with that, he wants to be able to help the other in anyway he can because he knows what it is like to have loved a upwalker. He knows how it feels when they are gone. Quick strokes of his tongue make the other's fur lay flat as he attempts to make sure the other is clean before he pauses and has to cough a little. "You have so much fur, heh" But after that his eyes gleam with a brightness as the other agrees to going to get the chicken.

Even though just moments before he talks about them being eaten and he laughs with a snort popping from his muzzle. "Don't worry, I won't let us get eaten. Besides I got a way to knock over the silvertins. We can just get what we need and get the hell out before anyone even notices we have done anything." With a wiggling of his hind quarters he quickly finishes his breakfast and arches his back in another stretches before he weaves his way around Watson and goes out of the hole in the drywall. The sun is shinning brightly and the overgrown grass is full of the sounds of small critters and bugs. Even though this rundown section of the twolegplace is rough it does have it's moments of beauty, at least for him. Shoving his way along a wired fence for a scratch he bunches his muscles and leaps to hop onto a wooden fence. "It's this way!" Glancing over his shoulders he gives a bright smirk towards Watson before he hops down on the other side. The cracked and worn thunderpath lays before him and sneaks a peek at it before he starts to race across it.

The telling rumbles of a monster vibrates under his paws and he pauses only for a moment before leaping with a stretch of limbs to the other side. The car passing quickly behind him and he shifts back and forth before he shouts towards Watson. "That was a close one, wasn't it?! Alright, it's your turn now! I'll make sure you get across safe and sound. The silver tins are down this alley and across the next yard. Come on Watson, that chicken isn't gonna eat itself. At least I hope it doesn't." The blonde sits down but his tail is waving back and forth with excitement. The prospect of eating the chicken is really getting him all fired up.