How curious. He was neither broken in half nor minced into jam. And those really were the sorts of things one would notice if they had happened to one. How excruciatingly curious!<br/><br/>Mock opened one eye and examined the woodwork he was currently embracing. The harlot door had crossed her proverbial legs at last and her charms were sealed up tight once more. For half a blink he was overwhelmed with curiosity – what secrets were on the other side? - but then his brain gently reminded him that he was, in fact, on the inside of the door and the boots and sticks were, in fact, on the outside. Which was not the place to be because of the breaking and mincing issues previously discussed. And then he was back where he'd started. Lovely woodwork, that.<br/><br/>Opening the other eye lead to a momentous discovery. The soft thing that had also been outside was inside and was backing itself into a corner. In the spirit of fair play Mock backed himself into the opposite corner and mimicked her curled posture with a bit of flinching thrown in for good measure.<br/><br/><em>"T...thank you sir..." </em><br/><br/>He checked over his shoulder for a sir but no one else was there. He looked around the otherwise deceptively empty room because there ought to have been a crustacean, no, a cat, an under-dressed cat at that, but that wasn't here either. Things were disappearing at a remarkable rate. He wiped away a tear of loss.<br/><br/>But the soft thing, soft... girl... she was still there. She was cowering. She was afraid. She looked good enough to eat. Well, yes, she did, but that was hardly a polite way to begin a relationship. Beat? Mistreat? Deplete? Something else yet. Ah. Good enough to greet.<br/><br/>“I greet you, miss-”<br/><br/><em>"Wh..why'd you help me?" </em><br/><br/>Her question was odd but so was the entirety of world, nowadays. Mock unfolded himself from the corner and began to creep towards the girl with his black, bloodshot eyes wide open and taking in every inch of her. “You were running,” he began, getting a bit lost in the wiry madness of her hair. “You were screaming,” he continued as he marked the swells of her breasts and the dangle of her petite earlobes. “You were afraid.” She still was and it made his mouth water and he swallowed twice as he slunk within arm's reach. “So it was right, you see, for me to put you somewhere else. It was the right thing to do. I remember rightness and sometimes I can still do it.”<br/><br/>He nodded and smiled sadly, bent feather bobbing over his head, as he sat cross-legged next to the girl. Leaning in a bit closer, eyes going round as saucers, Mock gasped. “Are you, miss, actually, I mean, truly, are you in fact... crying?”