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“Why can’t you use your own pockets?” Sir Scary demanded, as if he was talking to a child.

“I ran out of pockets.” Alessio explained briefly, a little too innocently. He’s going to hit me he’s going to hit me he’s going to kill me he’s going to hit me…

“I’m not going to keep your food in my pockets, Is that clear?”

“I’m going to grab the other table to make a barricade.” Alessio blurted a little too quickly, skidding farther away.

With a sigh, Sir Scary extended his arm and black fuss surrounded his hand. Alessio blanched, preparing to duck. The table behind him clattered down like a wall and Alessio stifled a yelp, but it just added to his makeshift barricade.

Apparently satisfied, Sir Scary let his black powers fade out.

“I’m going to eat now.” He announced

He’s just a big softie, Alessio thought, a big murderous softie who could kill me…

Alessio slipped another biscuit in Sir Scary’s pocket, munching on whatever food he could get ahold of, staring up at him like a happy puppy.