Michael had a soft spot for children. It wasn't exactly something that the bobcat had thought a great deal about in the past, but it was something that he knew to be true. Even when he and Trev had been out in the wilds, constantly moving from place to place and fucking over everyone in their path, Michael had made it a pretty hard rule for them to never hurt little kids. He didn't know what it was about little ones and family life that seemed so wonderful from the outside, but he knew that life wasn't really for guys like him. Hell, he had tried before to have the picture perfect family of all the old human movies, when he had unsuccessfully tried dating Amanda, and that had hardly gone well. Nowadays he could say – a little nervously, mind you – that he knew why that was, and it hadn't been because of the family aspect of things. Even now though, after somewhat beginning to come to terms with his sexuality... the family lifestyle still just seemed so far off and distant. He and Trevor were both thieves, assholes, and thugs. They weren't meant for things like that, even together... if they were even together, the bobcat still wasn't sure on that just yet.

Despite this, that didn't mean that Michael couldn't live a little bit vicariously through his sister, Roxie. His beloved sister had delivered her little litter of cubs without much issue – if you called "in a tree" without much issue, anyways – and now they were around the group for everyone to see and interact with, including him. He had thought they were pretty damn cute when they were barely the size of his paw, but now? Now he found them to be pretty entertaining, given the way that they were just beginning to figure out that world and everything that living in it involved. He didn't really have a favorite yet – and if Roxie ever asked, he never would have one – but they were all pretty cute, and rambunctious. One of the main outliers was Trygve, the young cub who looked like his father seemingly having inherited all of the trickster genes from both parents, if his actions so far were anything to go by. Michael had been making an attempt to nap out in the sun for a while when he heard soft, careful footsteps approaching him, clearly trying their best to make noise, but not succeeding very much in the end. There was something akin to a shout as a cub came down upon Michael's head, but the thief didn't overthink it, just tilting his body sharply to the left to dump Ry back onto the ground in a cloud of sand. Looking down at the boy, Michael felt a very pleased little smirk come to his muzzle as he spoke, "You can't really sneak up on a thief, kiddo." He had noticed Trygve didn't really like being called kid, but... it was kind of fun to push his buttons and watch him puff up faintly in anger.

Despite his very apparent soft spot for them, Michael hadn't actually interacted one on one with a child in... well, ever, really. When he had been traveling from camp to camp with Trevor, the only children they had ever met were the ones latched onto the sides of the people they were scamming, so it was hardly the best time for bonding. In spite of his relative inexperience of those of the younger persuasion, the fugitive had already come to realize that Ry was the troublemaker of his sister's children. Perhaps not the only troublemaker of the litter – he had seen Natyli and the others going along with and encouraging his poorly thought out schemes – but certainly one of them. That was why it wasn't very surprising that Ry had chosen to leap on him while he was just casually resting. What Michael was very glad for, however, was that Ry hadn't decided to come up on his bad side. The left side of the bobcat's body was essentially senseless save for smell, with his eye and ear both not working ever since his birth. His mother and father had never been interested in finding out why, and none of the medics he had gone to after escaping their clutches had been able to figure it out, so he had come to just accept his disabilities as a fact of life – albeit a rather upsetting one.

The sound of Trygve's frustrated young voice was what finally pulled Michael from his self-deprecating trance, his blue gaze flicking down to look at his nephew. He felt a smirk form across his muzzle when he saw the way that Ry fluffed up and lashed his tail, clearly enraged at the thought of being considered nothing more than a mere kiddo. The bobcat said with a low chuckle after Ry had spoken, shaking his head from side to side, "I won't call you kiddo when you're not ages younger than me there, kiddo." He lazily flicked his paw forward to knock Ry over again into the sand, not doing so maliciously, but just because he found it entertaining to see Ry's little badass ego a bit bruised. Michael would never mistreat or berate a child like his parents had done to him, but it wasn't as if Trygve was going to wilt like a weak little flower if he got teased a little bit by his uncle. At least, he wouldn't if he had gotten any of Roxie's DNA. After all, she was the one who had taken to teasing Michael all the time, despite being the younger of the two adopted siblings.

Upon hearing the second part of Trygve's words, the male found himself laughing again, although this time it wasn't at Ry, rather at the mere notion of what he was saying. Firmly shaking his head, Michael mumbled as a few more stray hiccups of laughter left him, "Show you? No way, Ry. Your mother would kill m–" The bobcat was cut off, however, by Ry launching himself upwards once again, this time actually managing to latch on to the older feline. Despite this, Michael wasn't too worried, simply dropping down and beginning to roll over to crush the boy beneath him – leaving plenty of time for Ry to scramble out. He then tried to grab the other's scruff, plopping him down and saying with a snicker, "C'mon Ry, you've hardly shed your baby fat yet. You're not ready for all the fun shit the apprentices get to do." It was blunt, but it was also honest, Michael not even realizing he had broken his no cursing around the children rule already.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit, fuck. A string of curses ran through Michael's mind as he stared at Ry, attempting to process what the other had just said. Often the bobcat didn't even think before he used curses in his own vocabulary, far too used to just being around other adults to even think twice about whether or not such a thing would be a bad idea. This time, however, it was a very bad idea, because there was a reasoning behind him not wanting to curse in front of Ry and Roxie's other children. He had promised his sister that he wouldn't, knowing that she didn't want them learning such foul language this early, and had promised knowing full well she'd tear his ears off if he fucked up. Well... he had royally fucked up, because of all Roxie's cubs, Ry seemed the least likely to keep his mouth shut about such a thing. Internally panicking, Michael began to speak quickly, his paws shuffling, "Wait, ah– no, no, don't say that. Ugh, don't say anythin' like that, your mom will kill m–" However, the fugitive didn't get a chance to finish his sentence, caught off guard by Ry suddenly rushing in and slamming into his side. There was a spike of pain as the other's rounded horns jabbed into his side, and the black furred feline let out a yowl before falling over.

There was a brief moment of silence after this, where Michael simply laid on the ground, his side aching and his head blissfully blank of any and all thought for just a few moments. However, this was cut short when he scrambled to his paws, moving to quickly rush at Ry and attempt to barrel the boy over, pinning him down with his weight, if he was successful, he would be careful not to use all his weight, not wanting to crush Trygve, but simply hold him in place while he spoke. He quickly hissed, his small nubbin of a tail twitching anxiously behind him as he thought of how furious Roxie would be if Ry said "shit" in front of her, "Okay kid, I'll tell you what– you don't tell your mom that you learned that word from me, and I'll train you, alright? I cannot have Roxie knowin' I already broke my promise." Would Roxie be pissed about him training her son so soon too? Probably, but at least this way there was less of a chance of his ass getting beaten – by anyone by Ry, anyways. Although, the thief liked to think he at least had the fighting skills to best a kid like Trygve, at least until the other for bigger and stronger than his uncle.

It really shouldn't have surprised Michael that Trygve thought he could've been lying. After all, Michael De Santa had been a thief and a fugitive for practically the entirety of his life – what was another little white lie to a kid? Unfortunately for him, it seemed as though the Roux family was not quick to just take his sweetness laced words at face value. When Trygve began to squirm beneath him, spouting off nonsense about his gut, Michael felt his face burn beneath his thick black coat. His weight had always been something he was sensitive about, even when Trevor was choosing to compliment it in his own... unique way. So, upon hearing Ry's words, Michael lightly aimed to shove the kid's head back into the dirt, snickering at him. He could feel the kicks against his fluffy stomach, but he ignored them for the most part, saying firmly, "My gut is not crushing you! I'm hardly all that heavy!" When his nephew then began to question him, Michael just felt a smirk coming to his face, his little bob of a tail twitching from side to side with amusement, "No foolin'. You just have to trust me. I mean, you should anyways. I'm your fuckin' uncle."

There was a long moment of silence after that, and Michael shifted a bit, his head tilting to one side as he noticed the thoughtful expression upon Trygve's face. What could the boy be thinking about? Hadn't he just gotten the thing that had been begging for this entire time? The thief opened his mouth to question what the hell was taking so long to answer, but then Trygve spoke, questioning his honesty. Lifting up a paw to place it against his chest in mock hurt, Michael responded curtly, "Lying to you? You honestly think I would lie to you, my own beloved little nephew? I can't believe you'd think such a nasty thing about me, kid." His usual snark was present within his sarcastic words, and he was about to continue in his little speech when suddenly he saw nothing but fluff. He let out a shout as Ry's head collided with his own, the larger of the two males stumbling backward as he cursed and fell back with a grunt. He brought his paws up to his now aching nose, glaring daggers at Ry as he hissed, "Really, Ry? That's what you thought would make me want to take you on as an apprentice? That really hurt my damn face, you know!" He was cursing up a storm as usual, to no one's real surprise, but he still shouldn't have been doing it in front of poor Trygve's innocent ears.

Michael Townley had never been much of a fighter. After all, there was a reason why he relied so heavily on his earth elementals, and why in the past he had constantly surrounded himself with goons. He had been born as the runt of a litter before his siblings passed away, and he was honestly just lucky he had made it. He had constantly been deprived of food until he finally managed to get away from his horrible family, and that had made it so that his stature had suffered somewhat, leaving him short and slightly chubby. None of this was really a secret, easy enough to see just from watching the fugitive live his life normally. Hell, Roxie had delighted in reminding him of how much smaller he was than her while she was pregnant, something that had started a great deal of squabbling between them. Despite this, there was one thing that Michael had up his sleeve. Something that seemed very obvious to some, but was actually easy to overlook for others. Michael Townley was crafty, and he wasn't afraid to be a bit of an asshole to get results. After all, if he had ever been afraid of being an asshole, then he wouldn't have turned to a life of thievery in the first place.

There was a brief moment of silence between uncle and nephew, before eventually Trygve voice his concern, causing Michael to smirk a bit beneath his cupped paws. His nose was still aching somewhat, but he knew it wasn't anything too bad. He'd seen much worse pulling off heists, or just generally dealing with Trevor's bullshit. Despite this, he let out a pained groan, mumbling in a muffled tone beneath his paws, "I don't know, might be... you managed to hit me pretty hard, kid..." He knew that the worry in the boy's voice meant that his guard was down, and that was exactly what the thief was hoping for. After all, if he was supposed to be Ry's mentor, he might as well teach the kid about opponents that wouldn't play fair, right? He waited until Ry had leaned in a bit to try and look to see if he had done any real damage. The bobcat leaned in as well, a wicked smirk forming, hidden beneath his paws. Once he was close enough, Michael attempted to lunge his forelimbs forward suddenly to grab Trygve firmly. If he was successful, then he would try to use all his might to toss the boy up and over his own head. It was a painful maneuver for him, considering his lack of decent muscles and the fact that Trygve wasn't a small kid, but it was a worth a shot, especially considering what Ry had just done to him. After all, it was only fair that Trygve get a pelt full of sand in exchange for a hurt nose.