TO BE IN TOTAL CONTROL ☆ re-introduction

[MIDAS.]

M I D A S

i don't give a motherfuck what you're doing,
i don't give a motherfuck who you're seeing!

Geez, these guys were prickly, weren't they? Maybe that was why dad had kept him inside for so long. In spite of Salem's awkward and vaguely hostile response, Midas found himself just snorting before he shook his head a bit wildly from side to side. His tone was fond as he spoke, amused by how personally they seemed to take his offhand comment, "Oi, calm down a bit, will ya? I wasn't trying ta insult 'er. Sorry if that was rude, alright? Dad has been trying ta teach me 'proper manners,' but I guess I ain't quite got the hang of it yet." Despite how he had sounded, the young coyote was being genuine when he said it hadn't been meant as an insult. It had just spilled forth from his mouth, mostly motivated by the fact that he had never met a rusty spotted cat before. He only pretty much had experience with the rest of his family, so he only knew a bunch of other coyotes, and his dad, the sole bobcat.

With that out of the way, Midas turned his attention back to Goldie, looking the former captain up and down curiously. In the stark other direction, she sure was big, wasn't she? She looked like she could step on him and leave him squished like a bug. Luckily for her, she would be correct in assuming that he wouldn't have any expectations for her. The only knowledge of her that he had was secondhand from Michael, so he'd have to come up with his own opinions. For now, he just offered her a toothy smile, tail thumping against the ground as he spoke, "Nice ta meetcha too, miss Goldie. My dad's told me a bit about ya, but I wasn't sure I'd ever meet ya thanks t'bein' stuck inside for so long. Yer more intimidating than I imagined." Although, she couldn't be that intimidating to him, considering he was still inspecting things like her tattoos, and bright fur.

Once he was done looking at Goldie's peg leg – and wondering when he could get his own tattoo – the boy was finally able to refocus his attention on Salem, and Keona. What were they asking him about? Oh, right, divisions. The pup let out a bit of a cackle before shaking his head, laughter still bubbling out of him as he explained, "Nah, I don't really think the Blackjack Rats are fer me! I know my dad does some important work, but I ain't really the sneaky type, ya know? I'd much rather be out 'n' fightin'... ya know, like the Grim Rays!" His dad had been sure to give him a basic rundown of the various divisions once he was old enough to understand. Naturally, the combative ball of energy had gravitated towards the Grim Rays, eager to destroy The Typhoon's enemies – even if he was a bit small for that, yet.

— Reggan