In which Ghoulmask and Roaringsun meet and bond over their shared man pain. In the entire world, the white tom had never met anyone that he could withstand for longer than a few short moments at a time. Call it a curse or a blessing, it didn’t matter to him; if you were concerning yourself with anything regarding him he’d blow you to smithereens. Like a pirate. Like a pirate on a ship. So the fact that he found himself nose to nose with a tom that for some reason had him wanting to confide in him rather than insult his intelligence was saying something. And that something was run. Him? Vulnerable? That only led to trouble. How did he get to this point, you ask? Well, if you could keep your nose out of his business for five minutes, he’d tell you. He was just minding his own business (you should try it some time), walking along the borders of his home (‘cuz it was his clan now and that wasn’t depressing at all) when he found the dude just… sitting there. Like a weirdo. And of course, being Ghoulmask, he did what any Ghoulmask would do and pulled a Ghoul. A very fantastic Ghoul. He sat down next to him and stared at him unblinkingly until the tom was too creeped out to do much more than lean away with a look of abject terror on his face. He loved being a Ghoul. “You look a bit constipated. Did you receive news? I’ve always despised news, it’s never good.”