Play was as foreign to Larkspur as the idea of friendship. He did not have time for such things, nor had he ever been exposed to them. Even as a child, he had been singled out and abused. All for his fur. All because he came from a world that devalued those who were different. Such teachings had followed through with him. Now, though, he was strong—he was no longer a starving child stealing food from his elders. Now those in power did not hate him, but respected him. Such a thing meant that the D’Angelo had finally found his place.
Minos might have sounded powerful once before, but it fell short with Larkspur’s upbringing. He could not overlook the white coat, and even now, it infuriated him. Though he was not intent on striking any of Haku’s useful members, he could not let that anger go. “Y’creepin’ around for a reason, Minos?” The last word came with a nasty snap, and once again, a baring of teeth.
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