Hayom [p //libre] Kadosh

[align=center][size=8][font=georgia][color=white]Whether his most recent revision of his outlook on socialising was making any difference or not was something the sandy-orange tom was uncertain of. Sure, he'd talked to more than he used to, but it hadn't landed him any friendships or anything. Maybe it was the initial uneasiness of having to make social interaction. Frankly, he was much better at interacting with a wounded creature than an uninjured one. As sadistic as it sounds; he even preferred them... they talked less usually. On the other hand, it wasn't a great thing - interacting solely with wounded ones. Sure, it was his profession as a medic, but the job wasn't an inherently asocial one.

A quick glance around him revealed several cats engaged in conversation. Yes, he knew the name of most cats... even if they didn't know his. A sad truth, really. Spotting Libre, he took the opportunity and headed her way, his primary goal to have a conversation. A proper conversation, if he was lucky. "Hi!" He meowed as he arrived within earshot.

[align=center][size=8][font=georgia][color=white]Far too energetic of an opening as far as he was concerned. He should tone down to a less unnatural one or he'd have issues maintaining it. Hearing the response as he waited for what seemed like an eternity in his anxious mind, a wave of surprise flooded as he noticed that he wasn't the only one aware of his existence - at least, excluding his parents. Who pretended he didn't exist. They had after all, always preferred his brother. The fool who followed the family tradition of being a soldier. The fool who charged into a wave of dogs to keep them from attacking a tree. Somehow, they found Martin to be more of a strange, insane child. Almost certainly because he'd chosen to fight with medicine rather than with claws. He couldn't really blame them, seeing what he turned out to be. An asocial medic who spends three-quarters of his day in his room because no-one was willing to go ask him for help. No, they always went to the more sociable ones. His days were utter garbage, more often than not.

"How... are you?" He asked, tilting his head, dragging out 'how' a little longer than he should have.

[color=darkgray][size=5pt]#kaktussturm

[align=center][size=8][font=georgia][color=white] A statement with a clear lack of desire for conversation. A glorious, yet disappointing result thus far. However, further attempts at speaking would make things worse. "Okay, so you don't want to talk. That's fine. I'll just…" He paused, searching for the best ending to the sentence, "shut up now." He would not, however leave. At least, not yet.

//mobile

[color=darkgray][size=5pt]#kaktussturm

[align=center][size=8][font=georgia][color=white]Ah, something he knew too well from experience. Most tried to hide their social issues by overcompensating - much like he did on occasions. Very few, however, simply said it. At least, as far as he knew. "Yeah, I understand perfectly. I can't really either." He answered.

[color=darkgray][size=5pt]#kaktussturm

[align=center][size=8][color=#a8a8a8]"Non-conversation buddies." He repeated at a whisper. It wasn't quite an oxymoron... but it was close enough. Fortunately, or unfortunately, depending on point of view, he had spent quite a long time avoiding social interactions. Therefore, he had a few things he knew of that required hardly any verbal communication.

His 'favourite' category - 'team building' exercises. While certainly most effective in large groups, they could also work with significantly smaller groups. With a hint of uncertainty and apprehension, he proceeded to ask, "If you're not too... busy, could you come along in a hunting expedition?" A brief pause for all the neurons killed uttering the sentence. "Y-you don't have to, of course. Just a question."

[color=darkgray][size=5pt]#kaktussturm

[align=center][size=8][color=#a8a8a8]Lead the way? He didn't know any places to hunt where there was a lot of prey. He knew only the one place he ever hunted, but it had hardly any prey. "Okay." Was the only response he gave, turning in the direction of the only hunting place he'd bothered to learn about.

After a slightly longer trip than most would take to go hunting, they had finally arrived at the site. It was fairly open, with hardly any trees and a limited amount of bushes. The only prey there was vole, but it almost never really left their hard, dry dirt dens underground. The place resembled more of a desert than anything else. A desert on a ledge surrounded by trees in all directions but west.

[color=darkgray][size=5pt]#kaktussturm