I can see that he doesn't like it when I try to be bold, his eyes practically glaring at me from beneath those thick black locks. I don't like this look, it reminds me too much of the anger of my father, but I'm warring with instinct here to survive and something tells me shriveling up in a little ball will do little more than delight the boy before me. He's a predator, even if I don't know what kind. He looks at me like someone who's used to getting what they want when they want it so I'm guessing he's a large predator. I don't want to anger him but I'm willing to stand my ground somewhat so I can run when I need to. If he's big then that means there are places I can go that he can't.

He seems puzzled when I say kidnap so I try to explain it but I can tell by his creased forehead that there's only so much of it that he's actually taking in or understanding. One thing he does seem to pick up on is that I ran from my pack and he looks uncertain about this. His question makes me frown in bitterness as flashes of my father and the others who laughed at me and ridiculed me play before my eyes. Before I know it, tears are building up in my blue gaze but I look down, not wanting a stranger to see such a sign of weakness as I murmur lightly.

"Yes, pack is family, but sometimes the need to survive is greater than the need for pack."

I shift against the wall, obviously uncomfortable with this conversation. I don't want to talk about my pack or my father. I want to put all that behind me so I can move on with my life. I can guess now that he must be part of a pack. Hopefully he's not the leader. Once more, I find myself searching for other scents around him or listening but I hear nothing. He is alone today for some reason. He scowls again as I tell him that I don't want him carrying me around like a purse but apparently that's the only thing he picks up on because his resounding yes grates on my ears. He must be a selective listener, how apt. I look back up at him, eyes narrowing somewhat.

"No. I am not your purse. I am not your carrying case. I am a human being and a WereFox. I like to stand on my own feet."

I understand that such a statement might anger him and so I'm ready for it, shriveling back against the wall as my eyes dart around, already looking an escape route should I need to take it. I can see that he's not going to give up on this venture lightly and that he's determined to carry a fox beneath his arm once more. When he steps toward me, I react accordingly and I can see something flicker in his eyes. He likes that reaction. He takes another step and I inhale sharply, my body trembling, on the edge of shifting just so I can better slip around him and out of this situation. His words are not what I expected, eyes blinking a few times at him as I continue to look for escape, not trusting his words enough to let down my guard.

I watch with curiosity as his face suddenly shifts, softening into something more pliable and kind and yet I believe it to be a ruse. He is trying to manipulate me. When I mention a deal, he pauses in his endeavers though, his eyes lighting up like one who enjoys making deals. Good, then maybe I can save my skin after all. He finally nods in agreement to my deal and I'm about to let out my breath in relief when he asks the question. My jaw tightens as I shake my head.

No, no carrying. Maybe if you gain my trust enough where I know you won't hurt me then maybe, just maybe, I'll...ride on your shoulders or something."

I offer that as a compromise, sure that he won't want to give up his urge to touch my fur so quickly. Perhaps he'll be willing to let go of the thought of carrying me like a luggage purse if he gets to feel my skin against the back of his neck and he can reach up and pet me anytime he likes. It's not a compromise I'm altogether happy with but it's better than having him standing in my space in that domineering way one moment longer.