Imperial Junke Yard, Friday

[notquitewright]

Marcus had been having such a good morning. He did the rounds of the junkyard, checked the fences, and unlocked the shed, experiencing an unfamiliar sensation of satisfaction that everything was where it should be

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[weetinyreese]

Kyle came looking for Marcus, figuring enough time had passed that he might be bearable after Rafe leaving. He didn't expect to find a raccoon in Marcus' pile of clothes. "Marcus?" he called, not realizing the raccoon was who he was looking for.

[notquitewright]

The raccoon who was actually Marcus looked up. Had he been the sort of person who would ever consider facepalming, he'd have been doing so now, because of course it would be Kyle.

Two choices: scamper off and hide until this wore off or try and convince the kid that he was stuck in here.

Marcus opted for the latter. Picking his way over to Kyle, he stopped, sat up on his hind legs and simply looked up at him, head cocked and ears slightly flattened.

[weetinyreese]

He looked down at the raccoon. He didn't know of any raccoons that were so unafraid of people. "I don't have food."

[notquitewright]

Marcus hung his furry bewhiskered head and sighed. The beauty of being a raccoon, he discovered, was that he still had what were pretty close to fingers, so he used to them to point at the pile of clothes, then at his raccoony self, then looked up at Kyle expectantly.

[weetinyreese]

Having dealt with Star needing non-verbal communication for years, Kyle caught on fast. "You can't stay here like that."

[notquitewright]

Marcus didn't like that. His fur bristled and he shuffled a little in the dirt. But it was a hard point to argue against, especially when he couldn't talk.

Finally he nodded, reluctantly, then scampered (and the fact that he was scampering caused an internal scowl) over to his pile of clothes and pawed through them until his gun was visible, because the clothes he didn't care about but it couldn't stay there.

[weetinyreese]

"You can still carry stuff, right? Go put into a pile what you want to bring. You can stay in my room, but no wandering off, okay? It'd be weird for everyone else having you walk around where they live. I'll get that," he nodded towards the gun, "and make sure everything is closed up."

[notquitewright]

That earned a scowl, at least as much of one as a raccoon could manage (which wasn't much at all), then Marcus nodded and scampered off to the shed.

Only to return empty pawed. There wasn't actually anything he cared enough about to bring with him, despite how suddenly attractive he found all the many shiny things. He held out his empty paws and shrugged, sort of.

[weetinyreese]

The gun was safely stashed away and the clothes rolled up and tucked under Kyle's arm. He moved to lock up the shed and then crouched down next to Marcus. "You can walk or you can ride," he shrugged one shoulder to offer it for a ride. "But try not to scratch me."

[notquitewright]

And Marcus, after considering how short his legs were, and how long a walk it would be on them to the school, carefully put his paws on Kyle's arm and clambered up onto his shoulder.

He was briefly grateful that this hadn't happened while Rafe was here; he'd have laughed himself sick.

Once he was certain he wasn't going to tumble off, he gave Kyle a little nod, to indicate that he was settled.

[weetinyreese]

"I'm stopping to get food. Don't worry, I won't tell anyone. It'll probably be on the radio show tonight anyway."

[notquitewright]

He closed his eyes briefly in annoyance, contemplating how much he really hated this island most of the time, and tried to ignore the sudden urge to find a pond so he could throughly wash whatever Kyle decided to feed him.