Their eyes meet and it is like a clashing of swords, like how one would expect in an movie: sparks flying and metal screeching upon metal where it meets, violent, and it could tear one apart if all goes sour. Pools of radioactive waste show no sign of wavering, at least not yet, because he is still growing into his role, filling the shoes his former leaders have left behind him still and then some, and he nearly felt his breath catch in his throat at this moment - at this very moment where mother and son stand tense, unwritten challenge within eyes - but this... He was scared of this. He wanted to deny it, push it to the furthest reaches of his mind, but it was there and blaring, blinking in bold neon lights that screamed at him.
You're going to stand there because she's someone you've never had?
He hears Chicagocrimes loud and clear, could feel the heat even from where he was standing as she spits at him. The word thief is thrown to him and it clicks quite quickly that the little raccoon she has wrangled in her vice-like grip had stolen from them. Eyes flick, momentarily, to the pile of toys and personal items that the nameless thief had taken and had put on display. She goes, "Look at all this shit he's taken!" and he huffs. He huffs. He sounds like a teenage boy in rebellion as eyes become hooded, a severe curve of lips turning downwards into a deep frown. He looks disappointed, troubled if you could look close enough at his eyes, the furrowing of his brows as faint as it was, his jaws grinding, temper flaring.
She snaps fangs and seems like she is about to go in for a thrashing before he's able to do anything and a child throws himself forward. He plants himself between his livid mother and the thieving raccoon and it seems to stop for a moment, a moment, but he could still feel wrath simmering and popping in the humid air. He nearly flinches at the cry, a want to put conflict at rest and move it all away far, far from here. To his surprise Chicagocrimes falls not only silent but she lets Delirious go, and he begins moving again. He moves, and he stands right there, gaze carefully fixed on Chicagocrimes before they move to Del, something unsaid reflecting behind his eyes that clearly meant a warning. "Go put whatever you stole back where you found it. And then I want you to apologize to the people you stole from because you have caused enough trouble here today." He flicks his ear dismissively but he does not walk away then.
His eyes fall upon Chicagocrimes and his expression wants to falter when he looks at the woman. She seethes still, fur bristling and he wants to just leave it all alone but - he has to be a leader. He cannot let this become a problem again in the future so he dares to part his maw, to speak, not as a son would to his mother but as leader to subordinate. "Thief or not, that was a clanmate, and that was not the right way to resolve the problem." Wasn't right, but Chicagocrimes was someone different. She didn't look at things the way he did. Peace and love still resided in the heart of the boy although pushed down because of traumas, of anger, and foggy thoughts of vengeance. "I already have the Exiles to worry about, do I have to worry about you tearing apart my clanmates, too? We don't have the time for this shit." Too harsh? What was he even doing? He speaks without filter, his mind scrabbling for a proper foothold but he goes on, nonetheless firm. "That wasn't your problem to deal with. It was mine. You're not the leader anymore Chica, I am." He ends, his jaws clamping shut after because he realizes what he's said. But he doesn't hesitate, doesn't tack on an apology. Instead he takes a few steps backwards before he begins to turn away, presumably to go and do whatever the hell he'd been doing before - shit, he didn't know anymore, his mind was drawing a complete blank. All he knew was that his day was fucked.
