Personally, claiming a swamp with a natural defense called bad reputation was much more preferable than living in the slums as he observed his fellow urchins endure so many years ago. Here, nobody sought to exterminate you, and if that privilege meant wallowing in mud half the time, than so be it. Besides, the swamp thinned out once one delved deeper into their territory.

    Dragging his scarred paws through the undergrowth, the poltergeist stumbled along to follow the foreign scent of a new group intruding on their land, holding back a tired wheeze by the time he caught up to Stocking and Vigenere. Beck half-heartedly shook out his grimy pelt in a fruitless attempt to make himself look presentable as he listened in on the rest of what this Yes Man had to say. His split brow perked in vague interest at the mention of business, yet Malphas barged in and spoke his concerns for him. The mangy commander offered the nurse a bitter huff and a glare before turning his narrowed scowl on the other leader himself. "If we do 'business' or whatever with ya, then y'all will help us out? Like if we need supplies 'nd stuff? Or for y'all to fight on our side?" Beck inquired with a tilt of his head, surprisingly serious as he continued rasping, "We've don't have no money, but we've got plenty of stuff to trade if that's what ya want." It was basically the same as an alliance, albeit with a little bribery from one end. And with the Ascendants proving to be distrustful, it wouldn't hurt to have a back-up plan. A slight grin twitched on the corners of his unscathed lips, revealing a flash of jagged teeth as he straightened and chirped in a shrill tone, "Name's Beck, and, uh, I'm the leader over here, 'case ya were wonderin'. These jerks can tell ya their names themselves." With a hoarse giggle at his teasing jab to his peers, the scrawny feline extended a frigid paw for a handshake, copying the gesture from television screens rather than his own experience.