7catsinatrenchcoat
[ Suspicious, cat-like noises ]
Accibelle quickly caught the jacket that was thrown at her as the man grumbled and left. Her large eye settled on the four arm man with a tired look. "Don't be so dumb next time." She tossed the jacket to him. Usually she wasn't the type to do drastic things unless she benefited from it. She wasn't some sort of vigilante or hero. The only person who mattered to her was herself, but when she saw the poor pathetic guy getting his stuff taken she felt a pang of sympathy, remembering what it had been like for her before she became so cynical.
She scanned the area to make sure no one else was around and spotted a silhouette of another creature. She squinted, trying to get a better look at whoever it was.
Maxwell stared down at his jacket with an opened mouth, then back up at the apparently-not tar monster. Very rarely was he greeted with any form of kindness, even if the kindness came through in actions rather than tone of voice or words. He hugged the jacket to himself, then quickly wrapped himself in it. The boy watched as the thief ran off still with cans of food that he'd spent so long looking for, then glanced back at the insignificant pile that was left behind.
"I - Uh. Thank you. I hope you have good luck in the future." He nodded to her leaving statement of 'stay out of trouble', as if he was ever going to try and get into trouble, as if he, Maxwell, four-armed wreck of a man, would ever try to go and - Oh, forget it. She was gone already, and there was no point in trying to come up with some sarcastic remark to give to a strange stranger that had already left.
With a sigh, he started back over to his not-really-a-pile, and began to pick through it's contents. The jackets pockets were also modified to be able to carry somewhat large amounts of stuff, but he would definitely need to leave stuff behind. At least he still had his water in hand. Losing that would have been bad. Three cans were able to be saved. Oh, fruit salad? That sounded like a hearty, warm meal. Great that that was one of the foods he had. Each can was shoved somewhat tightly into each modified pocket, two outside, one inside, and he stuck any extra small tidbits into the fourth remaining pocket. He looked down at the pile, then back up the street. The fact that there were burned out shells of houses behind him didn't improve on the atmosphere the apocalypse already had. He gave a loose can a ki- No he did not. Baked beans? Christ, he'd thought that they'd been taken. He considered sacrificing one of his current cans, but ending up carrying it instead. Four was better than three.
With a final sigh, he moved on. Hopefully someone who needed the food would find it.
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