It's funny how reflections change

You watch, concerned, as the lion only grows more agitated, a deep growl rising from behind staggeringly white teeth. Maybe, you think, this was not your best idea. This is a stranger, someone you owe nothing to, who clearly wants to eat you. A great paw swipes forward, and you scramble back instinctively, falling on your butt as you attempt to avoid those wicked claws. Your eyes clench shut instinctively - you're used to being hurt and can take quite a few licks, but that doesn't make it any more fun. You've decided that this whole endeavor is definitely more trouble than it's worth - but then your eyes blink back open as instead of nails soft fingers brush past your cheek as the man inside the lion seems to take over, and you are met with gaze of pale green rather than ferocious gold. Is this... progress? Have you accomplished something? Did it help? Apparently not. Get out!- Remi hisses before the beast takes over, the brief flash of a sweet face transforming back into furry fury. It's good advice. You should take it. But, of course, you don't. Remi may be fighting a battle between lion and man, but you are wrapped in a struggle as well - between big brother and unattached stranger, the King of Overcaring and the Duke of This is None of My Business and I Should Back Off. Maybe if you weren't so used Tae and Grusha you would have more sense and take this opportunity to book it, but honestly? You come from a family of love-through-fury, and the strange lion is still less scary than your canine sisters, let alone your mom or dad. You're the odd ball of your clan, the gentle Ferdinand in a pack of bulls, but that doesn't mean you're afraid to hold your own - even when you probably should be. You're shaken, but not intimidated. And this poor kid looks like he needs a friend. You don't want to scare him, either, (not that you could), so you scoot back slowly across the ground, still maintaining eye contact, trying valiantly to relax your posture into something that resembles neutrality. "'M not gonna hurt you," you say soothingly, "But I'm not gonna totally leave, either. You look hurt, an'- an' angry, and you wouldn't wanna do somethin' you'll regret later, right?" It's hard to scoot quietly with one hand full of metal arm and your pack slung over your back, but you still try, angling so that your back is to the doorway - just in case, you explain to yourself, though the beads of sweat that have appeared beneath your curly hair tell another story. Misplaced confidence and primal terror are strange bedfellows, but they seem to be frequent companions in your misadventurous life. And hey, your luck has held this long. Let's hope this isn't the day it breaks. Z E R O don't care what it cost - no ray of sunlight's ever lost!