"Good morning Riley." Mr. Asher slid his chair closer to her, giving Riley a warm nod and extending a... paw? towards her as a greeting. She leaned further into her chair, eyeing him down as she kept her hands to herself.

He seemed unphased however, taking his hand back and speaking up-

"You must have so many questions Riley, and I intend to answer most of them. Feel free to ask whatever's on your m-"

"Where's your wife?"

He chuckled at her astute observation, before explaining it away- "Ella caught some nasty flu and right now is probably napping."

Riley nodded, satisfied enough with the response, but not responding beyond that for now.

"I did mean anything that's on your mind Riley. I have a pretty good idea of-"

"Why me?" She glared straight at him, expression wavering between anger and uncertainty. "Why not any other kid from this god awful place?"

He took in a deep breath, his calm expression breaking through, revealing a slight frown.

"I cannot answer the latter. I do not believe that it is a question that should, or even can, be answered. I will answer the former, but I hope you're ready for some old man storytelling."

"I don't want your- your fucking stories Mr. Asher, I want answers! You think you can pull me back in here after that first interview, and insist that all is well and there are no issues with me!?"

"I'm not insisting there are no issues with you, and our first interview was clear enough about that. What I'm saying is that I've my reasons for continuing despite them, and see you as more than capable of overcoming them."

"'Your reasons', eh? Cmon big guy, admit your spiel, what is it? Child trafficking? Homemade kiddy porn? Maybe wanna carve me up for organs?"

"Well, if I were interested in you for any of those reasons, that would make me an idiot who can't pick his victims right. Do I look like an idiot who can't pick my victims right?" His speech was almost unnervingly calm considering what was being talked about.

He didn't look like an idiot who can't pick his victims right. The only idiot in the room was Riley, and she was acutely aware of that.

"I'm fucking armed you dipshit, I could kill you at any moment!" Her voice was cracking in fear as she stood up and pulled out the knife, her hand shaking as she struggled to keep up her grimace.

"'Could', and 'Would' are two different things." He responded flatly, looking sternly at her. No, not sternly... disappointed?

He was right. Worse still, she wasn't unsure whether she even *could* kill him anymore, considering her stress and leg injuries, 'would' being out of the question entirely.

She slowly sat back down, feeling outplayed. She still held the switchblade in her hand, just locked up in her jacket's pocket, still ready to defend herself with everything she had.

After a few more shaky breaths she finally managed to sputter out a response, her voice on the edge of a panic attack-

"Who the fuck are you!?"

He took a breath and responded, keeping his voice calm-

"Well, that's why I wanted to tell my story. So that both my reasons and my, well, behavior are clearer. Can I?" His question sounded genuine, as if he really wanted her to want to know.

Well, given that she's just threatened his life and he barely even reacted, she figured he was some sort of military, maybe even a SEAL or something.

In any case, he had her full, undivided attention as she nodded slowly, eyeing him down more intently than before.

He leaned back on his chair, gathering his words before he started.

"You aren't the only one who'd learned to have a knife on her on a young age."

She shook a bit in her chair, dozens of questions springing up instantly, her mouth half open as he cut her off, continuing.

"Mother died when I was two. Overdose. Lived with father in a trailer for some ten odd years afterwards. Growing up in a trailer park, as an anthro, let alone a skunk, was, well, rough. There were some friends of course, but a knife was a must."

Riley's brain was firing on all cylinders, his story recalling some... not too dissimilar memories, most of which she presumed buried long time ago, barring his species of course. She was all ears, the tiniest of tears forming in the corner of her eye as the old wounds were scratched by his recollection.

"In case you're wondering why a knife with a tail like that, well... this was before the Anthro Anti-Suppression Act of 1982, so me trying to use my, well, natural defenses would have us evicted on the spot. If they didn't shot us up first, of course. But anyway, ten years or so later, papa got busted. Possession and Distribution of Underage Pornography, life without parole."

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

This was all too much for her. Why was he telling her all this, what was the point!?

"So, me and a few other kids, most of them friends, end up in the county orphanage. No, not this one, but taking a look at the whole of it it's really not too dissimilar, especially considering the, well, budget. We... persevered until we were all sixteen to seventeen, none of us having much luck with adoption."

She wanted to stand up and accuse him of making this all up on the spot based on her case file, but she held back, very curious as to what would happen next.

"We were all preparing to finally get out of that place. Saving some on the side, one guy even afforded some cheap used car- it's the early eighties after all, go wild. We thought we were more than ready. And then, a wrench into our gears. I got adopted."

Riley saw it now, or at least, she thought she did.

"Really? Pity?" She asked in mild disbelief, feeling almost robbed of a proper conclusion.

"Hardly. Please let me finish." He responded, taking a second to compose himself before continuing.

She nodded quietly, less angry and more curious now as he continued-

"It went through, and my new folks were... a bit unprepared for the whole mental baggage that came with me included. But they more than made up for that with good intentions and being more understanding than even some therapists I've come across. As to what happened to my friends, well... you can plan for what happens once you're finally in the 'Real World' for eighteen years, and have the entire plan fall apart in days if not weeks. Lost contact with three of them after they ended up on the street, only one guy is still hanging on, as much as having to work sixty hours a week just to make rent and not starve could be called 'hanging on'."

Riley sat in silence, head staring at the floor, panicking at the thought of all her plans, all her hopes just burning up like that. She knew something like that could happen of course, but not to her, not with her intuition...

What intuition, even? She got spooked by dead nothing on a regular basis. She wasn't bright, she was a paranoid wreck who could only think in perceived threats and her dull switchblade which wouldn't even pass muster as a butter knife. Why did she think any of it would ever work-

"Riley?" Mr. Asher called out, snapping her out of the upcoming panic attack. He had a look of concern on his face, asking calmly- "Do you need some space?"

She looked up at him and shook her head slightly, trying to untangle herself from her own thoughts as a question popped up, an unresolved thread hanging in the air.

"Why me?" Her voice was much more exhausted now, her mind having had drained itself completely between the anger and anxiety.

"Because I want to pay the gift my folks gave me forward. Because I don't want another bright mind getting fucked over by random forces in life that make a living exploiting the most vulnerable like that. Because I know just the sort of constant, unrelenting paranoia you're dealing with, and I want to help as much as I can, and so do the rest of my family." His tone was as earnest as it got, and coupled with his assertive expression it really didn't leave Riley to any doubts.

He did mean it, as, as...

Too good to be true as it seemed.

She looked up at him, too exhausted for cynicism, too worn down by her own defenses, her glistening eyes asking only one question, one she'd secretly wanted to ask for far too long, every time she'd cried herself to sleep in the past.

"R-really?" She whispered out, the word barely audible over the background din of countless faded steps.

Mr. Asher smiled softly and nodded deeply, replying slowly with-

"Yes Riley, really."

She only barely held back the flood of tears, emotions she couldn't even make out surging through her in intensity she'd not experienced in... years.

The next few minutes were spent in silence, Riley trying to sort out her own thoughts as Mr. Asher smiled calmly at her, making it clear that she had as much time to mull through it all as she needed.

She still had a few more lingering questions, but was too tired to air out any of them. Besides, none of them were even that important, and would probably make themselves clear in time.

"So... what now?" Riley asked, wiping the last few tears off her face, her expression confused but for the first time in forever, also ever so slightly hopeful.

"We've dealt with all the paperwork and housing checks in the meantime, so there aren't gonna be any more delays with those. Really all that remains at this point is to sign the actual document and for me to pick you and your stuff up from here. That is of course, if you want to come with us."

Riley wasn't used to having this much agency. As independent as she liked thinking herself to be, most of the time she was just going through the motions day in and day out. And now, she was suddenly slapped with a decision that would very well change everything.

And it was fucking terrifying.

"W-what should I even say to that!?" She snapped, the weight of her choice pinning her to the chair she was sitting on, squeezing the air out of her lungs.

"I know what I would like you to say. What you will end up saying is your, and only your choice."

"H-how can I trust you? How do I know you're not fabricating your whole story up, trying to break my guard and then dispose of me!?" She called out, the tendrils of paranoia refusing to make themselves forgotten.

"You can't, short of coming along for the ride."

Riley's mind went silent at this, his response stilling the panic. You wouldn't say something like that if you weren't either the best liar in the world, or even scarier, completely, utterly honest.

The simple sentence cloyed her mouth up, words feeling wrong as she tried to rephrase it over and over again, before just throwing her mental hands up in frustration and speaking out-

"I-I want to come with you..."

Mr. Asher smiled and got up, leaving the room with a brief message of "I'll be right back, need to grab the actual document."

Was this all really happening? Was she... being adopted? The word itself made her feel on edge in angst and fear, but along the way... a tiny ember of hope lit up inside her, its faint light enough to at least make her not fall into another panic attack as she waited for Mr. Asher to come back.

The tiniest of sparks indeed, but it was better than nothing. It was better than the last two years spent in resignation and stagnation, in which there was no disappointment but also no hope, no joy, only... idly existing, day by day.

Mr. Asher walked back into the room, handing a thick document and a pen to Riley, instructing her simply-

"Write your signature there, and you go under our legal protection. All that'll be left at that point is just driving over to pick you and your stuff up, and... head home."

She took the document and held it up on the wall, the tiny ember quickly growing in intensity as it spread through her body. And for the first time in forever...

'''

Signature (Child): Riley W.

____________

'''

...she no longer wanted to fall asleep and not wake up.