If you had told Orion that he would have been friends with Cel immediately after meeting him, he would have considered you crazy. Of course, the first impression he’d had of the little toon was of Cel crashing into his legs while he was out for a walk. It wasn’t as though he’d been going anywhere special, or even going anywhere at all. Just walking Sirius, more because the hound needed it than Orion having any desire to be out and about. Then again, that could be said for a lot of the things he was doing back then.

            He’d been walking down one of the dingier, more deserted streets, the only warning of the oncoming collision sounding like a car racing through before it felt like a rock had smashed into the back of his legs. Orion’s taller, armor-plated frame fell backward, toppling like a fallen tree to the ground. Sirius gave a loud bark at the interruption, gently nosing at his fallen master as Orion blinked and tried to figure out what exactly had hit him.

            “Oh, geez, I’m so sorry, here let meee…” The fact that the little battering ram hadn’t bothered to finish talking was bad enough, but the fact that he outright gaped at Orion like he’d seen something particularly shocking just rankled the former hunter. Not that, on some level, Orion blamed the small toon. He knew from experience that he looked a fright with his blue insectile frame, four arms and dual sets of yellowy eyes. Not to mention the fact that his head was crowned with two sets of horns, the sides of his head framed with a pair of tusks for good measure. Perhaps he might have tried to hide his odd features with a hat or hood, but he’d stopped doing that when he’d stopped caring about whether he’d eaten or not that day.

            He could hardly blame the toon for staring, though this dull, grey thought was somewhat eclipsed by irritation at having been bowled over, and the fact that the person staring at him hardly looked normal himself. Cel was indeed an odd sight, the only colors present on his small frame black and white. He was dressed like someone from modern Earth during the nineteen-thirties or forties, coat and tie with a fedora hat, the whole nine yards. But what was more eye-grabbing was the equally dark skin, coupled with the eyes that peered out from under the brim of the somewhat worn hat. One eye was simple, white sclera, dark pupil, but the other resembled that of an old cartoon, a moving picture, with a white pie-cut pupil on a black background. Both blinked as the small toon’s mouth hung open, entirely caught off guard by Orion’s appearance.

            Which was when Orion’s frustrated anger reached its peak, and, with alien sharp teeth gritting in his mouth, he glared down the toon and opened his mouth to speak.

            “HEY, YOU! GET BACK HERE YOU DAMN CHAOS SPAWN!”

            For a moment the new voice shouting startled Orion, and he briefly wondered what he had done to get yelled at when his gaze flashed to the monochrome toon that had flinched at the holler, turning with sheepish slowness to look at one of the few shopkeepers on this street, who was coming out the front of his store and not looking pleased. One of the toon’s white gloved hand raised in a wave that somehow lilted between mocking and sheepish before the small frame darted down the street, legs blurring from the speed at which the toon was running.

            “SORRRYYYY!” Was the only thing that the monochrome battering ram left in his wake, racing down the street like one of those motorized chariots. Not that Orion really cared beyond the fact that he wasn’t about to get run down again, and the shopkeeper didn’t seem to care beyond the fact that the troublemaker was gone. He did throw an accusing glare at Orion, like he’d somehow convinced the toon to go into the store in the first place, though Orion easily threw back his own stony frown and a glare.

            The shopkeeper was the one to back down first, and Orion did his best to get up and resume Sirius’s walk, as the hound had been patiently waiting for him to finish the altercation and was now shoving his head into Orion’s shoulder in an effort to get his master’s mind off of what had just happened. Now that the heat of the earlier anger was starting to burn off though, the gray mindset from earlier had started to seep back into his thoughts, causing time to pass both slowly and almost too quick as the day moved on around them rather than with them.

            If you asked Orion then what he thought regarding the toon, none of what he would have said would have been the least bit charitable. After he’d gotten back to the little rundown wreck he’d claimed as a home, he had maybe about a few hours of dull quiet before he heard someone knocking on the window frame.

            “Psst! Hey, mister! Hey!”

            Raising his head from the old sofa he’d dragged in, really his only piece of furniture in here, Orion felt his expression go from blank to incredulously annoyed at the sight of a sheepish monochrome toon standing precariously on his window sill. Sirius too looked up at the new arrival, and Orion briefly considered trying to go back to sleep before figuring that the little wrecking ball didn’t look to be out to ruin him this time. At the very least he seemed apologetic, even quietly tipped his hat when the hunter came to open the window.

            “Hey, uh, sorry for runnin’ in’ta you back there. I-I even bought you somethin’, here!”

            Orion was forced to lean back a little as the shorter toon proffered something that smelled and looked an awful lot like a pie up toward his face, a pale, pacifying grin beaming up at him from under the worn brim of the hat. Manners dictated that he ought to at least take the thing, maybe make some use of it considering he hadn’t eaten anything that day, though there was still a little part of him that wanted to slam something over the window so he could go back to staring at the wall. Though, as he reached out with his upper pair of arms and took the pie from white gloved hands, he noticed the manner in which the dissimilar eyes were looking about the sparse room.

            “So, you really live in here?” The question seemed to slip out before the toon really could think on what he was saying, and his eyes widened a little as he realized it had actually been said. “Wai-, I didn’t mean,it’s just, y’really don’ have much in here, but I guess it’s a roof over your head, right?”

            “You don’t need to be polite.” Orion snapped back, voice cracking a little from disuse though he liked to think he hadn’t lost any of his gravitas. The growling tone at least had the small toon flinching a little, grin wavering slightly. “I am well aware that it’s a dump. Well, if you’re done gawking…”

            “W-Well, least you have a house, right?”

            The question made Orion stop, looking quizzically back at the little toon still standing on his window sill, hands clasped in a manner that looked a little like he was trying to squeeze the life from his gloved appendages as his grin kept a faintly strained air.

            “Why?” Orion asked, noting the sharper tone and not quite having it in him to work on dropping it. “What’s-where do you live?”

            “We-ell…I’ve been in a crate for the past week and a half…” The toon seemed to think aloud as he checked it off on an upraised finger. “And I lived in a dumpster for three days, couldn’t stand the smell though, and heck, if you’re on the streets might as well choose where you’re gonna be sleepin’, right? Anyway, before that was somewhere in the metalworking place, never had to worry about heating that way, but the sparks made sleepin’ kind of impossible, so I quit that after two weeks, and well, before that I was just kinda travelin’, but I really like this city so I’ll probably at least try to find a new place, oh, wait, the crate got scrapped this mornin’, so I’m kinda lookin’ for a new place t’sleep!”

            The toon rounded off the seeming list with a somewhat proud grin, probably more at the fact that he could clearly remember all of the places rather than any pride regarding where he was sleeping (though Orion had to concede that with the more chaotic types it was hard to tell what was considered an accomplishment), but the fact that it was a source of pride at all just…didn’t sit well with the hunter.

            Besides, the toon did not have to track him down and deliver a pie with the intent to apologize for this morning. The fact that the pie might have been stolen did occur to Orion, but given that the evidence was entirely edible, he didn’t take much of an issue with the idea. Even so, what better way to pay the monochrome being back than…

            “Do you, maybe want to stay here? Just until you find a new place?” He might very well end up regretting the offer, that he was aware of, but at the same time something told him that the short toon would not be that big of a hassle. Especially given the way the mismatched eyes were staring up at Orion like their owner had just been offered the nicest room at an inn.

            “Y-Y’mean it mister? You don’t have t’-.”

            “Just get in before I change my mind.” Orion snapped, before realizing he should probably tack on at least one rule for his new guest. “You hurt Sirius, you’re out of here.”

            “Sure, sure, by the way, who’s Siri-?” Judging from the way the toon paused, he’d just found out. Sirius may not have moved from his spot next to the couch, but he was not a small beast, and had probably looked up the moment one monochrome foot was put over the sill.

            “H-Hey, guessin’ you’re Sirius! Nice t’meetcha!” The faint pause probably should have been enough of a hint that Orion would not like what was coming next, but he couldn’t help but be caught off guard by what came out of the toon’s mouth. “Wait, so if he’s Sirius, does that mean you’re Orion, the great hunter?”

            Orion halted entirely, a deep breath rattling through his chitin-encased lungs before he slammed the pie down next to the arm of the couch with a bit more force than needed, and flopped down onto the couch. Of course, sleep was not instant, and Orion was perfectly able to hear how tensely silent the room became in the wake of his outburst, a small ‘sorry’ drifting over from one of the corners a few moments later before silence fully settled in.