<span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Ravi;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 10pt;"><strong>Name</strong>: Dormouse<br/><strong>Location</strong>: Lost<br/><strong>Tagged</strong>: <em>Mock.</em><br/><br/><br/>The mention of a kitty cat had her shifted upward, glancing at the direction his hand had gestured toward the ceiling as if Cat could be clinging up there. No, no Cat. Her eyes, her whole being rather, sighed and resigned herself to the fact that once again she had been too slow. Her lashes lowered, shielding her eyes from this stranger for a moment as she tried to control herself, to ease the tears that just kept coming. Crying here was a attractant to bad types, to scary people. This Mock didn't seem to be either but she didn't want to lure out that side, didn't want to make herself prey. <br/><br/>His voice drew her gaze up again though, confusion flashing through the gold and grey before he said 'compassion' and was moving suddenly, leading to her squeaking in surprise and pressing back into the corner again. Quick movements, lack of personal space, nervous, nervous. The nerves were fluttering so quickly inside her she thought she might be sick. <br/><br/>And that was not proper at all. <br/><br/>Mock's voice was compelling though, enthralling as he spoke, words weaving, teasing. A tale on her cheeks? She gazed up at him in surprise, in befuddlement though found herself thinking he had a lovely smile himself. Why  he wept she did not know but a trembling hand rose to touch his cheek, to feel the dampness of his tears against her own skin, her expression softening into something near trust. Hold her. She wanted that, wanted to burrow into his arms and believe she could be safe. Perhaps that was a lie but it was what she desired so, though her throat worked with nerves, Dori nodded, her hair tumbling around her cheeks from the action. <br/><br/>"Y...yo..you can... I think... I'd like it... just... no hurt? Please?"</span></span>