The Beggar

The cold wind blows through the marketplace, nightfall having just set in, bringing with it that certain chill that sends creatures indoors. For those who do not have a home to retreat to, an alleyway will have to suffice, such as it does for Maimed. He settles into the alleyway and pulls his cloak tight about his body, shuddering a bit from the cold as he counts up his meagre earnings for the day. The coins in his begging cup are far too few for lodging or even a full meal, and he lets out a sigh. Perhaps tomorrow will be better?

Zocalo meanders into the center of town from the marketplace having been released from duty by Sarnith. He's carrying his customary lantern which is lazily held aloft by an arm that seems partially unwilling to do it's task and is gradually falling lower and lower. The otter has his left paw stuffed into his pocket and is strolling happily, avoiding certain beasts and nodding cheerily to others. It is pure happenstance that he stops in front of the alleyway where Maimed has taken refuge and that is because he feels something in his pocket and stops to inspect.

Maimed winces and shields his eyes as the lanternlight falls across his face, and he pulls his cloak a bit lower so that his features are well hidden beneath it, not that much could be seen through the facewrap anyhow. The fox's sensitivity to his somewhat unique anatomy is in full force even after all this time. Maimed slips out of the alley, nearly crawling, having to keep one paw on the floor so he doesn't fall over due to his lack of a tail. His other paw is clasped about the grip of his cup, and he lifts it plaintively to Zocalo and gives it a shake. Yet for all that this act of begging shows, his eyes don't match his demeanor. They glint with a mixture of fear, anger, and resentment; and though he keeps them downcast, any fool would be able to take note of his gaze if they'd only look.

Zocalo withdraws a tattered piece of paper from his pocket but doesn't get a chance to read it before he's distracted by the jangling of the coins in the cup. The creature holding the cup is slightly hidden from view so Zocalo raises the lantern a bit higher in order to get a closer look and is a bit startled by what he sees. "Oh, hey, hello..." His not-as-of-yet-hardened heart pains him a bit when he realizes that the beast before him must be homeless and he digs into his pocket again. "Uhm, I don't have any...money..." He pats his other pocket and realizes that Sarnith hasn't paid him. Again. "Uhm..." He doesn't know what to do. The otter scratches his head and smooths down the disturbed fur. The extent of the fox's mutations hasn't occurred to him yet and he takes a step forward.

At Zocalo's mention that he has no money, the fox's shoulders slump, and he gives a feeble nod, heaving out a raspy sigh as he settles back against the wall of the alley. Maimed pulls his cloak about his body once more, trying his hardest to keep warm. Though he makes no effort to step into the lanternlight, the light shows his poor condition easily enough. The light falls upon mangey fur and a worryingly thin frame, and when the light glints off his eyes, the sickly-looking mucus which has dried at the corners and below the lids is quite easily visible. And something about the fox's face seems unusual, as though the wrap about his face sits further in than it should for a creature with a muzzle. Still, the fox nods to the otter, a gesture that seems to almost be one of relief and regret all at once. As the two of them stand in silence, a faint suckling can be heard, the fox making use of the old "suck on a pebble" trick in the stead of fresh water.

The silence grows awkward and Zocalo shifts his weight from his left paw to his right. Sarnith would /kill/ him if he brought someone to the shop to spend the night but the thought does occur to him. He takes a closer look at the beast and the anomalies begin to occur to him: the apparently flat face, the skinniness and, for whatever reason, the mucus really gets to him. He narrows his eyes, trying to think through it. "Uhm..do you have a place to stay tonight? It's going to get really cold out here."

Christopher has arrived.

Maimed turns to Zocalo and cocks an eyebrow as if that were the stupidest question he'd ever heard. Still, he answers as well as he can. He gives a shake of his head, followed by a shrug, seeming to claim that he's used to being out in the cold. The fox slips back against the alley wall, wincing a bit as he presses the stump of his tail to the ground, having to adjust his position a few times before he finds a way to sit that's truly comfortable.

"Well...pft." Zocalo is slightly put off by the response of the individual he was just trying to help and takes a step backwards. "There's an inn here, that's all I'm saying. But if you want to sleep out here tonight and freeze to death, that's your business." He tries to leave but can't bring himself to do it. With a sigh, he walks towards the fox and sets the lantern on the ground, crouching down to get closer. "Look..." But that's as far as he gets with the sentence because he notices the lack of muzzle and his expression changes raptly from pity to horror to horror disguised by pity.

In wanders a stoat! And not just a stoat, but the stoaty-est stoat of them all. Chris. He's walking along the road slowly, head glanced down on the ground, paws in his pockets, heading in the general direction of the two already in the square, not spotting them just yet.

Maimed seems a little exaspirated at the suggestion that he stay at an inn, and he dumps out his coins into one paw, holding it up so the otter can see it. It's barely even chump change, and certainly couldn't pay for lodging in an inn. With a jangle, the fox dumps the coins back into his tin cup. Upon seeing the otter's change of expression, Maimed's eyes seem suddenly hurt, and his paw flies up to his face, touching the wrap and pressing it against his muzzle, making sure that it hasn't slipped down and revealed the scarred stump beneath. He turns away from the otter's pity and his horror at what's been revealed to him, and stares down the alley, as though he's seriously contemplating bolting down it as fast as his feeble legs can carry him.

Zocalo barely registers the whole coins thing and abruptly stands back up, not sure what to make of the situation. Despite the fact that he's living in a vermin village he still isn't quite accustomed to the gore like some in the village seem to be. The initial shock wears off but the tingling sensation he gets while looking at the fox is lingering and he turns away in order to avoid it, his gaze fortunately falling on Christopher. "Chris!" He calls out and waves a paw. Good. Hopefully someone else will know what to do.

Christopher glances up slowly and spots the otter. He smiles a little bit before tilting his head at the sight of the fox on the ground. He makes his way over after a few moments of thinking, smiling weakly between the two. "Hey." he greets them both, eyes sliding between both beasts.

Maimed seems to be a bit at an impasse. As if by force of habit his fingers curl around the arm of his cup and lift it up, giving it a needy jangle towards the newcomer. Yet for all his need for coin, he does not turn his head, still staring down the alley, keeping his muzzleless face turned away from both of the beasts whose company he's in. For now at least, Chris' presence is keeping him from simply slipping away into the darkness of the alley.

Zocalo points mutely and helplessly at the fox as Chris joins them. Then he feels foolish, thinking that maybe this isn't anybody's problem but the fox's but it's too late for that so he comes up with a quick and lame, "Uhm, I don't know what to do." This didn't solve any problems so Z clarifies by saying, "He doesn't have a place to stay and.." He unconsciously reaches up to touch his nose.

Christopher glances down at the cup and instantly smiles properly. "Yes, yes of course." he says to the fox, reaching into his pockets, pulling out several coins. Four or five at least, plopping them into the cup. He then glances towards the otter, tilting his head a bit. "No place to stay?" he glances down to the fox. He doesn't seem taken back at all by his appearance. "What about the inn?" he suggests.

At the sound of the coins plunking into his cup, the fox's ears perk and he appears to cheer up a bit, counting the money he's got, but at the mention of the inn his ears flatten to the top of his head. Clearly the exchange about the inn he'd had with Zocalo was lost on this new stranger, but at this point, the fox isn't eager to turn towards the pair and show what he thinks of that suggestion.

"I suggested that," Z says helpfully, "But he didn't seem to like that idea." The otter shrugs and looks at the stoat, hoping he's got a better idea. "Sarnith probably doesn't want him in the shop but he can't stay out here overnight." Zocalo looks back at the fox and eyes him carefully. "I've never seen him before, he must be new in town."

Christopher blinks a little bit and nods his head slowly. "Oh...I see." he nods his head slowly, glancing toward the fox. "Well, I'm in no shape to have anybody stay with me at the bakery just yet. The room I have is tiny and my boxes of things take up most of the room." he rubs the back of his head a little. "I wont get cleared out of there for...another few days at least." he glances around for a moment. "What would you think if...one of us payed for the inn for a few nights?" he suggests.

Maimed gives a shake of his head and reaches down into his satchel, plucking out one of the few objects within. He scrawls down a sentence or two on his small blackboard, a piece of chalk clutched in his paw. When he finishes, he turns the board towards the pair of kindly-but-persistant beasts, showing them what is written on it in surprisingly good handwriting, "I have mange. The innkeeper doesn't like that. Besides, everyone stares. Here is fine." The word mange is underlined twice for emphasis.

Zocalo shrugs and points at the little blackboard. "Well there you go. Mange." He pronounces matter of factly. "And besides, I'm not sure about you, but shopkeeping doesn't pay all that well." He pulls his pockets inside out to demonstrate his dire straits to the stoat standing next to him. "Now what?"

Christopher hums a little bit and nods slowly. "It hasn't for me yet...but when I moved up here, my dad loaned me...well, much more than I could ever need to settle." he whispers to the otter before he slides his jacket off. Its not heavy by any means, just something enough to keep warm during the fall. But, after a second, he offers it down to Maimed. "Here. If you wont go to the inn...at least try to be comfortable."

Maimed reaches up and touches the material of the jacket with one paw, rubbing it between his fingers appraisingly. For a moment he seems to be judging how much it might be worth, but eventually he winces and shakes his head, pushing it back to its owner, a slightly embarrassed look in his eyes. Clearly such a repugnant creature is not used to having other beasts fuss over him and try to help him, and he isn't sure if he likes the idea of it just yet either, judging by the way he squirms about.

Zocalo tilts his head, confused at why the fox would be so determined to reject any help. "I don't think he wants it?" The otter rocks back onto his heels, the lantern next to him spluttering and sending shadows flickering over the nearby buildings. "Maybe we /should/ just leave him alone?" He glances over at Chris and then back to the fox.

Christopher shrugs a little bit and folds the jacket up in his arm. "Could just be nervous." he replies a little quietly. "Sad, but...not much we can do about that. Just...a few coins every so often." he smiles a little at the fox.

Maimed seems to sink a little deeper into the folds of his cloak at the thought of being given coins so frequently by two beasts who pity him to such a degree. This was clearly more than he'd bargained for, and he fixes the stoat with a steely glare.

"Yeah...coins." Zocalo stares unashamedly at the fox who is glaring at the stoat. The idea of what might be behind the scarf over his face fascinates and scares the otter all at the same time and he's wondering how Chris can be so seemingly unaffected by it. Shaking his head, Zocalo reaches down and grabs the lantern that has been sitting next to his feet this whole time. "I've got to get going. I'm tired and it's getting cold." He shivers.

Christopher nods slowly, glancing between the two carefully. "Yeah...it is getting a little late." he glances around slowly before glancing to the fox once more. "I suppose I should probably head back too." he nods. "Here, I'll walk you back to the shops." he nods to the otter before turning. "Have a good night." he calls to the fox, starting to walk along before casually dropping his jacket. He hopes the fox will eventually take it, but...if not. Well, he's out a nice jacket.

Maimed sees the jacket fall, and gives it a conflicted stare before letting out a heavy sigh, reaching out and snagging it before folding it. He wraps his cloak tight around his body before laying his head down on the jacket, using it as an improvised pillow as he tries to fall asleep in the cold alleyway.

Zocalo falls in alongside Chris and doesn't miss the casual movement that leaves the jacket in the dirt behind them. He glances sideways up at the stoat with a pensive expression on his face but then abandons all thought of rationalizing what just happened. They walk side-by-side back into the market area until Zocalo splits off as they pass the carpenter's shop. "G'night." He says casually and hops up the stairs.