( I WONDER WHY : VISITINGish? )

[WANDERER]

[align=center][div style="width: 500px; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; font-size: 9.5pt; line-height: 1.4;letter-spacing:.1px"]oops this is rushed sorry if it's a mess

It was a little bit funny, that his first experience with people claiming to be decent is this. A kid on the floor and everyone else speaking up like they were preaching at a sermon. Pointed ears pin back and he takes one firm step closer to them, sticky aloe-covered paws picking up dirt on the pads. Because the truth was, Feliks was right — he didn't care. These people could hurt him, The Pitt could hurt him. Hell, he could die tomorrow from some random spider bite for all it fucking mattered. The only thing that mattered was Butch, and his dad if he was even alive. "There's no plan," he almost laughs at Feliks, sounding bitter. "Everyone knows I'm there for him, everyone knows I can't do anything about it. I wasn't here to talk about that, I came here to talk about the fucking weather." A break from cruelty, why was that too much to ask? He glances back at Bakugou and his lip curls — even if he was right and nobody would trust him, how far they were willing to go to deny this is... something else, really. "I wasn't asking to be let in anywhere. You're all just —" He exhales sharply.

Whether or not they decide to attack him now that his back's turned, Val doesn't care. He turns around to start picking up pieces of his medical equipment. Bundles of comfrey and marigold, poppy seeds. It had all been tucked away in a very specific manner, and he knows he's not going to get it again, not without hours of frustration like that which already weighs down on him. To help alleviate some of it, he twists a bit more and pulls out something heavy, clamped gently between his teeth. After a moment's consideration, he leaves it by Peppino's small form. "You wanted to learn, right? This book was my dad's. Keep it. Give it to someone else when you're done with it, alright? Keep it going." Now everything fit pretty well, with room to spare, but he leaves the honey and aloe by the book. Just in case. "Keep it clean, don't use ice on it. No cotton balls. You —" he looks at Caesar "— honey would help. Or gargle with salt water." The words are rushed and angry as he finishes packing up and puts his satchel back over his body.

"Don't talk like what happened to him was my fault. Your — fucking — assumptions —" each word is punctuated by another sharp movement of the bag "— and inability to see past a foot in front of your face got him hurt." Golden eyes are cold on Feliks's face now, as he turns away to head back down the tracks. "Do yourself a favor and stop pretending you're looking out for anyone, talking to a kid like that." He slips past the small crowd without a glance backwards, shaking out his paws in the cool water and keeping his pace at a steady trot even though all he wants to do is run back to Butch. (And he'd thought being outside of the vault would be an adventure.)

/ out !