Zocalo and the Scone Thief

Nighttime has overtaken Ferravale and brought along the chilly wind and crickets that usually accompany it. Since it is fall the air is nice and crisp and most beasts have headed indoors to enjoy time doing whatever it is that vermin do in their spare time. The glow from windows and lanterns attempts to light up the street but isn't doing a very good job. Zocalo trundles into the town center from the marketplace wearing a jacket and carrying a scone in his right paw. It must be a fairly warm scone as he's holding it with the very tips of his fingers and occasionally tosses it to his left paw. Following directly behind him and to his right is a small fox kit who is obviously very interested in the scone and continuously badgers the otter for it until he finally says, "No! I'm not giving it to you! Go get your own!"

Nightfall is always unpleasant for the homeless, and this one is no exception. Despite the windfall from the previous night that had gotten him a meal, /this/ night there was barely enough to buy fresh water. Maimed's eyes tighten as he takes a swig of the fresh water that he's given extra body to by using ditchwater. It's vile, but at the very least it'll keep his throat wet. The commotion caused by Zocalo and the fox kit draws Maimed's eyes easily, and he lifts up an eyebrow at the sight, not having pegged Zocalo as the type to be a caretaker for children. The scone, however, draws a much greater reaction, an almost lustful stare that's accompanied by an irritable grumble within the hungry fox's belly. Putting on his typical beggar's performance, Maimed crawls halfway out of his alley so the light falls on him just enough to make himself visible, then gives his tin cup a pitiful shake, letting the pair of coins in there tap against the metal in a feeble percussion.

Unbothered by Zocalo's firm declaration, the kit jumps up as high as she can and reaches for the scone which the otter easily pulls out of her reach. "No!" He repeats and scowls down at her. The kit responds by sticking her tongue out and making a face which Zocalo simply turns away from with a roll of his eyes. He then proceeds onwards down the road with the kit close behind him. She amuses herself by jumping over the otter's long tail which drags on the ground as he walks. Irritated, Z stops and curls his tail around his footpaws. "Why don't you go home?" He points back towards the marketplace. "Not gonna!" The kit responds and plants her paws on her hips, glaring up at the otter.

Insistantly, Maimed rattles his cup a little louder, almost impatiently now, a bit miffed that the kit is making it harder for his favorite easy mark to take notice of him. He stares at the scone with needy eyes, his stump of a tongue hanging as well as it can out of his ruined muzzle, and no doubt if he were able to stand and run faster, he would snatch it and flee. Still, as it is, all he can do is glare.

The little fox and the otter stand there glaring at each other for a few moments until Zocalo finally turns away with a frustrated, "Gah!" With a disinterested wave of his paw he starts walking down the road again. Not to be forgotten, the kit leaps forward and grabs onto the otter's ankle with her front paws, holding on for dear life. Surprised, Zocalo stumbles forward and the scone drops from his paw and falls in slow motion until it lands on the ground. Quicker than you can imagine the little kit leaps up, grabs the scone and rushes off with it in the direction of the marketplace. Zocalo doesn't even try to run after her. Instead he just sighs heavily and rubs his forehead. Then, disheartened, he heads over towards Maimed's alley, completely expecting the beggar to be there just as he has been the last several evenings.

Maimed spots the scone fall to the ground, his eyes wide as dinner plates as he realizes that most beasts don't like to eat things that have rolled about in the dusty street, and is halfway out of the alley before he stumbles due to his lack of a tail and falls flat on his belly. From there he watches the kit grab up the scone and dart off with it, his eyes frowning and a vague whimper sounding from his throat. With nothing else to do, he pushes himself back up to his knees and crawls off to the alley again, plopping down against the wall and trying to brush the dust from his tunic. Wholly unsympathetic, and not to mention irritated that some little guttersnipe got the scone instead of him, he writes on his blackboard as Zocalo approaches, holding it up so the otter can see by the time he gets close. It reads, "That was pathetic." the word pathetic being underlined for emphasis.

Zocalo isn't in the mood to take it tonight. "Landing on your stomach while chasing after a scone? Yes, yes it was." With a 'humph' he ungracefully takes a seat against one of the buildings that make up Maimed's alleyway. "Ridiculous little fox," he mutters, "she's been chasing me around all day." He pats his pockets and then groans as he realizes something. "And I spent the last of my pay on that scone. It was still /warm/!"

Maimed's eyes narrow, but he seems to understand that the retort was to be expected and perhaps even deserved, but at the mention that Zocalo's already spent all his money, he throws his paws up in exaspiration. There goes his /second/ chance to get a meal that day! Moodily, he sulks against the wall staring at Zocalo, then eventually recovers enough to get curious. He grabs his blackboard again and erases the insult with his forearm's fur, then writes something new, "Who was that?" He thinks for a moment, then writes one more sentence, his eyes now gleaming with the ugly humor that comes with a joke at someone else's expense, "Did you marry a vixen and get a reason to regret it?".

Zocalo glares at the fox out of the corner of his eyes for quite awhile. Finally, unable to come up with a witty enough response, he takes a deep breath and lets it all out in a huff. Turning his eyes back to the street he responds with a sharp, firm, "No." There is a brief pause as he finds a small twig and snaps it in half. "I don't know who that was. I've seen her around town before but this is the first time she's chased me like that." He abandons the twig in a half-hearted toss. "I think she lives down in the marketplace somewhere."

Maimed seems pleased with himself that he thought of a zinger that the otter couldn't think of a response to, and his eyes glint with satisfaction. At seeing the otter's frustration, he thinks that he might have gone a bit far though, and although he might enjoy making fun of him, he doesn't want to lose the only beast who'll actually spend time speaking with him. Maimed holds out his waterskin of dirty water almost apologetically to Zocalo, nodding to him to encourage him to continue speaking.

The last time Zocalo drank something before he knew what it was he got into a lot of trouble. Shaking his head he waves the skein away. "Thanks though." He doesn't want to seem ungrateful. The otter stares out across the town center, watching the various drunks walk crookedly past. Sighing, he comments, "I've never understood the appeal in being drunk. Who wants to be out of control like that?" He points to one particularly drunk individual who cannot walk a straight line. As he points, the sneaky figures of two young ferrets can be seen padding up behind the drunk, probably preparing to do something nefarious.

Maimed shrugs and nods, turning away from Zocalo and pulling down his facewrap so the otter can't see his deformity, taking a hearty swig of the water and gagging on the awful taste. He replaces the mask and turns back to the otter, watching the drunk stumbling about. He feels a sudden pang of regret as he reflects that he walks the same way no matter whether he's sober or not. He writes on his blackboard, "I wish I could afford to get that drunk." Then at the sight of the two ferrets, he adds, "Should you do something about them?".

Zocalo doesn't care if the drunk gets robbed blind. He just had his scone taken. The otter shrugs in response to Maimed's written question. "Like what? They look barely younger than I am. They're not going to listen to me even if I told 'em to bug off." Out in the street one of the ferrets steps in front of the drunk who stops abruptly and is quickly relieved of whatever was in his back pocket by the other ferret as they bump into each other. "Hyah! Ol', drunk stoat!" The ferret in front laughs. Confused, the drunk tries to go around him but is blocked.

Maimed shrugs a bit at the otter's reluctance, and is decidedly unwilling to to do anything about it himself. Still, he decides to at least make a token effort and picks up a rock left in the alley, curling his paw around it and pulling his arm back, then tossing it at the ferret in front of the drunk, aiming to give him a nice belt on the head. Any more than that, and the fox can't be asked to do anything, and he only made the token effort in the first place due to his confidence that the darkness of the alley will keep him hidden.

The rock indeed makes contact but Maimed has managed to hit the drunk instead of his intended target, the ferrets. Already fairly incapacitated, the drunk falls over onto the ground and the two ferrets immediately turn to look in the direction where the rock came from. Since the beggar is in the alleyway, all they see is the otter who, for once, is completely innocent. Zocalo immediately realizes what has happened and leans his head back, knocking it against the wall in frustration. "Hyey yew! Why'd you throw th' rock?" The ferrets approach menacingly, quite aware of the fact that any fight that might take place will be two against one.

Maimed winces as he sees that he knocked out the drunk, and as the ferrets approach, he draws his cloak about himself and his satchel and tries to look as pathetic as he can, giving Zocalo an apologetic shrug. His paws, however, seem to be sifting through his satchel, looking for something specific. The ferrets, for the present, are completely ignored, and Maimed offers no help, nor does he offer to take responsibility for the rock he tossed.

"I /sed/, why'd you throw the rock for?" One of the ferrets asks as he stops in front of Zocalo. The other one takes up a position directly behind and to the left of his companion. "I /didn't/." Zocalo says, emphasizing the word 'didn't'. He's still leaning back against the building, his eyes not even on the ferrets. "Well who did? I don't see anybuddy else out 'ere, d'you Bo?" The other ferret, apparently 'Bo', shakes his head, "Nup." "Well neither do I." The talkative ferret takes a step closer. "So y'see, we've got a problem here."

Maimed finally finds what he's looking for at the bottom of his satchel, and, with a pawful of some rather odd looking plant, he tries to stand up as quietly as he can, thankful that the two ferrets didn't consider a beggar worth paying attention to. Feeble as he may be, Maimed at least hopes he'll have the element of surprise as he launches himself onto the back of the nearest ferret, wrapping one arm around Bo's neck as the other moves for his muzzle, trying to force his fingers between the ferret's jaws and shove a chunk of the plant into his mouth.

Zocalo is just as surprised by the attack as Bo is and the silent ferret falls forward under the fox's sudden weight. The ferret twists his head around to avoid the invasive paw but can't quite get away from it and is the unfortunate recipient of a strange plant which he swallows and then tries to spit out. The ferret who was menacing Zocalo abandons his prey in order to help Bo by kicking at the duo who are struggling on the ground and the otter takes advantage of the situation by standing up and shoving the ferret.

The ferret, in his kicking frenzy, manages to land just as many hits on Bo as he does on Maimed, the difference being that the fox's frail body can't bear up with the blows as well as a young ferret, and he soon rolls off of Bo, winded, but with only half a pawful of the plant he was holding. Even as he clutches his stomach in pain, the fox seems rather happy with himself, as though he just did something that he hadn't gotten to do in a very long time. The unnamed ferret, meanwhile, falls rear-over-teakettle after the shove from Zocalo, tripping over Bo and thumping his head against the wall, dazing him.

For his part, Bo just lays on the ground licking his lips, trying to get the terrible aftertaste of the plant out of his mouth. It isn't too much longer, however, before he groans and closes his eyes as a wave of nausea rolls over him and makes him very grateful that he's lying on the ground. Zocalo is a bit surprised at the effectiveness of his shove and steps over Bo's prone form in order to examine the beggar. "You alright?"

Maimed rolls about on the ground for a moment while clutching his stomach, shaking his head at the question, looking a bit angry that it was asked. Of course he's not alright! Didn't the silly otter see him getting belted in the stomach? Still, the pain eventually subsides enough for him to uncurl and stand up, leaning heavily on Zocalo for support. He ventures a kick at Jangle, knocking the dazed ferret from his position leaning against the wall to a facedown position on the ground.

On the ground, Bo is experiencing extreme nausea and has the intense desire to throw up although he can't quite manage to do so. He lays a forearm over his eyes and takes a deep, stabilizing breath. Zocalo watches as the unnamed ferret falls and glances between the two before turning back to Maimed. "We should do this more often. What'd you give him?" He nudges Bo with a footpaw.

Maimed, being a vindictive thing, can't help but give Jangle one more kick, this time across the muzzle, knocking out a tooth. He glowers down at the pair, then turns to Zocalo upon hearing the question, holding up his paw that still clutches half of the mass of plant that he'd forced into Bo's mouth. If Zocalo has a memory for such things, he'll recognize the plant as being of the same variety that he'd taken a lick of the previous day.

Zocalo does indeed recognize the plant and looks from it, to the ferret on the ground who is now clutching his head, and back to the plant. He swallows hard. "How much of that did he eat?"

Maimed holds his hands wide apart, signifying a large quantity, then stuffs the rest of the stuff back into the appropriate part of the satchel. He lifts up his blackboard and scrawls on it. "Now you see why I was worried about how much you ate, right?"

Zocalo chuckles awkwardly and scratches the top of his head. "Yeah, okay." On the ground Bo starts crying softly, confused at why he feels so sick and too dizzy to stand. Z peers down at the two. "Mmm, are you going to still want to sleep here tonight? They don't look like they're going anywhere very quickly but when they do, I wouldn't want to be around."

Maimed lets out a sigh as he looks down at the two and realizes that he's just ruined his favorite sleeping spot. He shakes his head slowly and looks down, his ears flat against the top of his head. He gives a shrug. There are no doubt plenty of other alleyways he can duck into to sleep. He collects up the few things he owns and sticks them in his satchel, slinging it onto his back.

Zocalo figures he'll just leave the fox to himself. He's been doing that the last couple of nights anyways. "Well, I guess I'll see you tomorrow then." He says awkwardly. Bo moans again and the otter nudges him with a footpaw. "He's going to be alright, right? I mean..he looks terrible." But then he realizes that he doesn't particularly really care and shrugs. "Eh. G'night." With his paws in his pockets, Zocalo trudges off back towards the marketplace and his uncomfortable bed in the carpenter's shop.

Maimed does give a nod to Zocalo's question, whether he cares or not, but his eyes glint rather cruelly, showing that he's rather glad to have done what he did. There's a particularly lightness to his strange walk as he skulks off towards a new alleyway, though he soon returns temporarily to his own... if only to give Jangle one more kick to the gut before he goes along his way, waving goodbye to Zocalo.