If there were a measly rodent on the side of the road, his fur dulled out from the trials and tribulations of survival, its apparent battles scraped into its skin, you wouldn't dare go near it. Louis was unsure of what to make of the animal, its teeth was bare in preparation for an attack. It was strange how encapsulated he was by the thing, something about it spoke to his soul. The restraint it took for him to keep his hands to himself, the urge to nurture it was immediate. The greyness in it's fur was what attracted him. The externalization of its own filth would repel any other person but to him he found it to be empowering.

What if my skin looked like that? He thought to himself. Perhaps everyone would just let me be.