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[div style="width: 300px; max-height: 100px; height: overflow; overflow: scroll; padding-bottom: 5px; margin-top: -5px; font-family: georgia; font-size: 8pt; color: #152232; letter-spacing: 0px; text-align: justify;"]He kept fancying that Ivan was absorbed in something — something inward and important — that he was striving toward some goal, perhaps very hard to attain.

It was true he had little of what could be called loyalty to a community. It just never worked out for him. Ivan knew that he needed to thrive in a society to learn and grow, but the idea of loyalty tied to things just by virtue of his birth ... it wasn't very savory to him. Yes, he was an individual, and proud of it. But Mercede's attitude had shifted and although he could feel the metaphorical fire, he allowed it to lick at his feet.

Ivan appeared taken aback at her response, and he couldn't hide the lowering of his ears and the sort of shrink in stature. "My apologies. But in the case, it seems like I've found a similarity between us." How silly of him. It was too cliche to think Mercede had thoughts on ruling. Ivan never was politically ambitious and didn't find satisfaction in ruling, that much was evident from his lack of perception about the circumstances before his birth. But it may be because of different reasons than Mercede.

"T-Tanglewood?" He responded, but it sounded more of a question than a response. He was acting pathetically awkward now. Wait? Where was he? Why was she looking at him like that? He wanted her to stop, it was making his chest feel tight, but at the same time he didn't run away. Was he aware that he was indulging her? Maybe, but he didn't want to face the fact. "You're from The Pitt, aren't you? A while back I saw another little female fox on the border that smelled like you." While he was quite certain she was from The Pitt, from the Jervis talk and scent, he just wanted to feel like he was on equal footing with her.