Nolan stood plaintively under the little capuchin, letting her speak her mind, nodding at bits, never connecting eyes with her until she finished. His nails now clean, he linked his hands behind his head, using them as padding for the back of his skull as he finally looked up at Mattie. "Ye felt looked down upon. Ye've got all the right to be annoyed. Now I'm sorry t'say this, but th'likes of your kind are rather well-known for having that reputation. Not that I think that o'you, just sayin' from what I know." One hand slid out from behind his head and an index finger bobbed, emphasizing his point. "I also know that folks of the avian sort aren't exactly the most trusting of folks either, especially when it comes to their shiny bits. I mean, I'm sure ye saw the way the little bird's eyes lit up when Butcher was fiddlin' with that coin."
Having made that point, the fox went quiet, for a shorter time than before. He donned a storyteller's voice as he began to reminisce. "I remember one time, durin' me youth, where my brother and I were rough-housin'. Now, me Ma didn't mind if we roughed each other up a little from time t'time, long as it was in good fun, and as long as we didn't break anythin'. Well, that one day, we did. And we thought we were goners, aye? But nothin' ever came of it. Weeks passed where me Ma never said a thing, never acted like anythin' was wrong." Nolan laughed, a quick snort coming out of his nose, a small smile of an exhalation. "There wasn't a day that went by where we just knew we were gonna have our father put th'belt to us...but it never came. So finally, not bein' able to take it anymore, we went t'our mother and told her what we'd done. And ye know what she did, li'l Mattie?" He looked up at her at this point, a soft but serious look on his face.
"She smiled, ruffled our hair and said, 'It's a lot worse bein' persecuted for somethin' ye know ye did and bein' suspected for it than it is knowin' that you're not at fault at all.'"
He looked back down to the street, his whiskers lightly fluttering around in the night breeze, his soliloquy finished, his thoughts on the table.