It takes a lot to make me

[Anselm de le Poer]

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-- Sirius was shit outta luck if he thought that Anselm would forget; the wolf had the memory of an elephant. Anselm seldom forgot names and he never forgot faces, and he managed to pick up on even the most trivial of things and hold onto them. This was a matter of grave importance for him, and "I guess so" didn't quite satisfy him. "You need to," he repeated firmly, before the pup started babbling at his imaginary friend. This kind of behaviour was perplexing and he never knew what to do about it. In his experience, telling someone something didn't exist when they were convinced it did accomplished little, if anything at all. Maybe there'd be some kind of friction--he decided it was best to just sort of play along when he absolutely could not ignore it. Still, the vacant look in his eyes betrayed his doubts. Sometimes he was convinced the whole damn planet was going to hell in a hand basket, and this sort of stuff was just "evidence." "Sure," he agreed, glad to change the subject. He rose to his feet again and started moving for cover. But then... "You do know how much trouble Inferni's in right now, right? You're kind of throwing yourself into the middle of an inferno by coming here." Did a sense of belonging mean as much to Sirius as it did to Anselm? Did he really want to trade peace and tranquillity for war?

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