...but I'll get that bastard some day!
Possum bristled at the malice in the other male's voice, but he started to uncoil himself from the wall, letting his fear manifest into some sort of sick curiosity. Despite the rage he felt at the circumstances of his birth, he had never been suicidal. He wanted to persist, survive, and damn his bitch of a mother to hell. A low growl rumbled from his throat at the stranger's comment on his teeth. "Yeah, I know, I'm ugly and my teeth are too." He narrowed his pastel gaze, tail like a bristle brush as he turned slightly to face the intruder more head-on. The male in front of him was very clearly of Glorall, he could tell from the scent, but he knew the feeling of belonging to a pack but not actually wanting to. And there was safety in numbers, either way. He did a dangerous thing by leaving Diveen.
He tilted his head slightly at the stranger's invitation. A group of fighters? Possum didn't like the idea of being loyal and obedient, but he supposed he wasn't going to find protection anywhere else. It was only getting more and more difficult to find food for himself, and despite his bravado and confidence the boy knew that he wouldn't be able to defend himself from anything much bigger than a fox. "There wa'th no room for th'omeone like me there." He shrugged slightly, trying to keep the bitterness from showing on his face. The boy wasn't aiming to live his life as a victim of circumstance.
"It th'ounds like something I'd be interested in. What kind of fighting do you do?" His eyes were wide and round in the gloominess of the den, secretly desperate for that feeling of belonging. If this stranger could offer that, then perhaps it wouldn't be so bad to be subservient for a while. He was a dirty fighter, a scrapper, there was no nobility in the sort of life that he led. Somehow, though, Possum doubted that it would be much of an issue to this male.