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Deceiver in the company of relative strangers knew the catastrophe that would be losing his temper, and in the face of further humiliation simply narrowed his cold blue eyes for a fleeting moment at the detestable creature who had impugned his dignity, and then simply let go of the anger. It wasn't that it was gone, it was simply that he had filed it away for later, to be revisited at such time as the opportunity arose, or it was needed.
Instead, he hit a point where a level of dissociation took over, receding from the moment and the stricken dignity completely, as if he had filed himself away with the anger too. The mess couldn't touch him there, nothing could, it was a place within him beyond touch of the material or the grotesque.
It made him feel better, it reminded him his body was but a temporary flesh housing for something greater, something perfect. Something
intact.
It was strange to watch him slough off that moment of desperate vulnerability, where he'd asked for help - and as expected - found none immediately forthcoming. What remained was almost cold and robotic and he followed No Escape's directions to the mangroves, where in the dark he had to contend with further weakness within himself, deathly terrified of deep flowing water under normal circumstances.
But that too right now was far away, and he stepped out into the chill, a little stiff legged and ducked down to try and salvage the colour of his fur.
As detached as he was from the situation, the cold barely registered, and perhaps he lingered a little too long, because when he stepped out onto the bank and sad down in the dark, away from the group - accompanied only by No Escape had she kept up her watch the whole time - he found he couldn't quite stop shivering.