He decided that the other must have functioning eyes under the strip of cloth, but it was a curious accessory all the same; it must limit his eyesight at least a little bit, anyway. There were probably better ways to disguise the face than that, but he didn't really question it. Instead, he considered the answer. Habit. Arkham supposed much of what he kept was habit as well, including the cloak. I guess so,
he said. It was warm too, but he suddenly got the feeling that the other was looking for another kind of answer, and he was just a disappointment. It's really not that special -- why?
The stranger must have another reason, and it was a reason that Arkham didn't have. They were not so similar because the younger coyote was not so unique or noteworthy or special. The cloak might only hide that he was really quite ordinary after all, but if that was the only alternative to being like the rest of his family, then he would be happy. Boring and disappointing was still better than crazy.