"You could do aid work with R.I.T., like me!" Parker told him. She was clearly irritated, her mane standing on end and her muzzle drawn up. Teige gritted his teeth in response, ears back. "You're making this so fucking hard for your own self! Like what the fuck is it? Aid work ain't as important?"

"Oh, fer--" Teige scoffed. "Of course I don't think that."

"Then what??"

Teige stood with his arms crossed, neck arched, ears back, looking away from Parker, the tip of his tail switching back and forth. He got out, "I--I just don't--what happened to Hawk..." and then, more quietly, "I wanna stop that, is all."

"Dude," Parker said, less angrily and more pityingly, "you need therapy, not boxing lessons."

Teige turned away from her, massaging his neck. She said after him, "You ain't sleeping, you run around the streets at night, now this." She paused. "...I'm just fuckin' worried, Teige."

Teige didn't answer her. She stared at the back of his horned head and let the silence stretch out between them, until she finally sighed angrily and rolled her eyes.

"Fine. Whatever."

"...You're trying to help me, and I appreciate that, all right."