WHERE DO WE BEGIN — P. DOKTÈ

[align=center][div style="width: 500px; text-align: justify; font-size: 9.4pt; line-height: 1.4;"]Sometimes, Doktè found it a bit amusing that what so many people found refuge in was one of his stages of hell. Childhood was meant to be -at least by common understanding- something protected, spent in comfort and with no need to worry about the sort of things adults did. Doktè, on the other hand, had broken just about every expectation of youth as a treasured time when he ran off to join a group of terrible people who hadn't hesitated to exploit a boy's impressionability. He could remember bits and pieces of his mother, of his two sisters, but they were little more than snippets. More fresh were his memories of harming those who didn't deserve it, and the helpless fear when he was caught in a trap, leg on fire as those he'd been loyal to turned their backs on him. Peace came after, when he awoke in a bit of a haze to gentle -albeit a bit coarse- people who hadn't hesitated to shave out a place for him. The same why Theo didn't pause when he met him, as though seeing something Doktè couldn't, and for all his grumbling, it was nice having him around.

Sometimes he reminded Doktè of Lisette, but then he would smirk and he was entirely himself. That wasn't a bad thing.

Agitating as hell though, and he had half a mind to strangle the lion when, instead of complying, he just challenged him casually and sat down to stay. He was going to drive Doktè insane eventually. "I'll pass you a slap." He gave a brief hum when Theo affirmed that he had no second thoughts, although he could just about hear the missing word from that sentence, but he didn't have time to linger on it. "'Or whatever?' I might've heard something like that."
[align=right][i]—INFORMATION