FRESH FROM THE FIGHT // JOINING

[STEVE]

[align=center][div style="width: 500px; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 1.4;letter-spacing:.1px"]He was never any good at doing what he was supposed to.

As a kid, that meant he hadn't stayed inside like his mother said, because it didn't seem fair that he had to watch the other children play just because of what might happen. Though it did, several times, "it" being a bout of asthma that laid him out for some mild cold to drag him into the next week. He hadn't stopped after that, though, still chased after the can with the rest of them, scraping it around an alley of a city more plant than building. While it was dangerous for his health -what wasn't, back then?- he hadn't wanted anyone to think he was fragile. They did anyway, and he assumed it was simultaneously surprising and unsurprising when they saw him come back out after several weeks. He always managed to make it through his ailments, but none of them were holding their breath. If he died, it wouldn't be too shocking.

Obviously, he hadn't died. When he got older, after his mother died, instead of kicking around a can, he more or less became the can. Not for no reason. Some of those kids he risked death to play with grew up into assholes who wouldn't know respect if it gave them a black eye, which Steve aspired to do. Rarely accomplished, but he tried. It was more than what some people did, and at least he was the only one at the receiving end.

He hadn't really grown out of that.

"Hey, let the kid go." He gave his best disapproving stare, pulling himself up to his full height, but it wasn't much compared to the larger, muscled felines. They did, at least, stop pushing around the boy, who took off without another glance. Small victories. "Don't you have something better to do than shakedown children?"

"Think we'll teach you a lesson instead."

"You don't look like any schoolmarm I've-" All the air was slammed from his lungs, and he was dazed for several seconds, resisting the way his chest wanted to quiver and compress. He glared at the larger feline, and bit down on one of the paws pressed into his shoulder, hard enough to draw blood, and his attacker pulled away sharply.

"Little shit!" Steve rolled over and scrambled to stand, but that stupidly left him open for the other feline to slam him back down, this time on his stomach, and he gave a wheeze. He thrashed as much as he could, the claws in his shoulders drawing blood.

"Did you say something, mouse?" The paw pressing his head into the dirt briefly relinquished, and Steve sucked in air.

"I said," he started, spitting out bits of dirt, "you should lay off stealing food for a little while. Pretty heavy back there." He'd barely finished when his head was back in the ground, and he attempted to gain some space from it, but he wasn't strong enough to lift the guy up at all. Still, at least the kid got away.

//feel free to powerplay the two felines!