destruction is his game - joining

[div style="margin: 0 auto; width: 60%; text-align: justify;"]Brown eyes drew to Cosette as the girl arrived. He held his breath for a moment, anticipating the other to attack. Much to his relief, the attack did not come. It appeared he had been acknowledged as not being feral. Even if he grew up with feral parents, Finch had taken the opportunity to educate himself. While he still had plenty of wilderness inside of him, he knew how to be... Sociable. He was a bit of a spitfire who did not take to authority well, but time would have its way with him. Being feisty and ill tempered was all he knew how to do to keep himself alive.

Leader? The turkey laughed. He really did not get the leader-vibe from the lion, but Finch did not put off much of a authoritative vibe himself. For the most part, Finch was just some backwoods hick who had trouble telling the difference between a rectangle from a square. "Try me big kitty, I'll make ya dance." He also failed at knowing when it was time to keep his break shut. "Name's Finch."