I am your heavy eyelids

[Barthélémy Aston]

Like an old married couple. But not old or married! :3

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He was mad. As in mad, not just mad, not just glaring at him or waving something like a hand or paw or something -- what? Was he yelling at him? Me? Why? Wait -- and idly threatening anyone. He was shouting, saying things in a language Barthélémy did not understand, but in the manner he most certainly did. His shouts were like his grip, how he had latched on to Barthélémy's neck and shoulders, how he did not let go, how Barthélémy thought it hurt, how the coyote had not agreed.



Barthélémy whimpered. He flattened his ears and shook his head resolutely. No, no, no, you are mean, very mean. His voice wavered in and out, a cyclical cycle that increased and decreased in intensity. Now, the waves were coming and they were bringing with them feelings of doubt and fear, perhaps for his life. He flattened his ears, then took a step forward, courage flowing up from his toes and settling comfortably in the pit of his stomach. If this coyote was going to be stubborn, he would, too! He shook his head in reply to the other's growls, frowning slightly. He saw the coyote begin to move toward the pile of arms and followed him, hovering nearby. "Je ne pense pas, m'sieur!" he shouted, trying to think of a way to get rid of this coyote. He did not have time to waste here, not with this annoying creature. Unfortunately, he could not think of anything else to say or do. This coyote was not refused to listen to reason, refused to leave, refused to do anything. Barthélémy sighed.

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