A voice split his ears and the pale-faced man gazed up to witness a stranger looming at him. The skin between his eyebrows and his eyes scrunched up in disdain and annoyance, though it had already been near that way from the frustration of the rodent.

Lucy felt himself prickle up like a spikey ball of hate before the stranger mentioned something weird sounding, laced in the bizarre-ness of his accent with sounds he hardly heard in his own.

What the fuck's a Koala...? He maintained the angry little asshole glare, but with a crook in his brow to indicate his confusion.

He knew not of southern bear-creatures or their tendency for leaves. Only the sky, the lands he hailed from within it, and the birds that nested in among them. Lucy hated change, hated new things, hated discovery. He didn't want to find new things or meet new people, he just wanted to go home.

But that was not an option, not at all, not at least for a while.

My methods of hunting are of no business of yours. He spat, accent more proper English but different. Rearranged in the way he enunciated every syllable.