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"You didn't my question" Steve said, pointing at the snake with the tip of his bottle now, "Ain't seen anybody with a coral snake that hadn't stolen it from the zoo."

The hobo gave Writ a look. Was this girl legit? Steve was just instinctively suspicious. He wouldn't have lasted in Downers for so long if he didn't. Though being able to buy him off with the right kind of alcohol was a rather disturbing trait. Writ in turn gave Zyanya a look. Just tell him what he wants to know and let him see the damn snake, won't you? Trust me.

Steve eyed Zyanya for a moment, then looked down at Yectil.

"Fine, I got what I want, why should I ask questions?" He held up his bottle and looked down on the snake, then at the coyote. Then back at the snake. The coyote wasn't in any serious danger. They were rather durable animals. It'd take more than just a p***k of poison to finish one off. The snake on the other hand, was a little more fragile. He stroked down Yectil's body with a finger, skimming against the bite marks and scrapes. The snake was in bad shape, but she was still treatable.

"I'm gonna need some time without you two looking over my shoulder, so out!" Steve said, pushing the two out of the alleyway and back on the streets.

They were back on the sidewalk, and he breathed out, "That's Steve for ya."

"He ain't that bad, he's just missing an arm and an eye." Writ said casually, "You'd be a bit weird too if you were missing body parts."

He was quite accustomed to the dark. His eyes seemed to glow in the night. Just one of those perks about being a coyote really. Writ took Zyanya's hand and pulled her back against the wall.

"Doesn't seem that bad to me." Writ smiled. He sat down against the wall and waved Zy over, "I got just the story to keep your mind off of these kind of things. About Steve actually."

Well, Writ didn't think it was scary. But then, he was a guy's guy. Steve's story was the kind of thing he'd tell sitting around with a couple of beers with some friends. The story was on his tongue though, and he always fancied himself a sort of storyteller.

Well, it's been a few years since Steve worked at the zoo. Back then he didn't have a beard, both his arms and both his eyes; he was the best damn zookeeper in the whole zoo. Steve always dealt with the dangerous animals, no one else was crazy enough to do it. Everyone would come to see him handle jaguars and hippos and just plain violent animals-- and he'd tame them. Sure, he got a few scratches here and there, but that didn't stop him from doing his job.

So the zoo decided to organize this huge "Extreme animal" exhibit. They pulled out all the stops- lions, tigers, bears... They figured Steve could handle them all. And yeah, he did his job. Until they got to the bear. This particular bear wasn't as sedated as all the other animals in the exhibit, and this one bear wasn't particularly happy with it's new living arrangements. So when Steve tried to guide it to it's new home, WHAM! the bear claws his face, his eyeball's rolling down the astro-turf, but he doesn't scream, he didn't even flinch, he stares down the bear with his one good eye, and backed away.

Steve just kept on with his job. Got an eyepatch, got some stitches, but soon as he can get out of the hospital, he starts going again. Seems like the bear wasn't the only one sedated properly, soon as the lion got out of it's crate, it caught Steve by surprise, his new blind spot left his arm wide open to get torn off by the cat's jaws. His arm goes flying between the fake palm trees. Now Steve's howling in pain, he gets carted off in an ambulance, and a week later he finds a pink slip on his hospital sheets. He's a liability now, the managers just can't afford to have a lawsuit on their hands because somebody assigned a retard to sedate the animals in the first place.

Steve's here now, he couldn't pay his hospital bills, so they pretty much took everything under his feet. There's no demand for an one-eye, one-arm bum like him. He does do things every once in a while. Taking care of a stray here and there, but mostly, he's gotten as drunk as most of these hobos around here. Just goes to show how fast people forget about a somebody soon as they become nobody.

It wasn't a particularly happy story, but Writ supposed that he wouldn't mind keeping watch of Zyanya. You know, in case lions and/or bears happen to be in the neighborhood.

"I guess. But think about it, one moment you're in the spotlight and the next moment you fade into obscurity." Writ sighed, "It sucks, to be forgotten. People don't even remember Steve anymore, let alone his story."

His ears drooped, and for a split second, it felt like someone had just died. Writ looked up, "Sometimes I feel the same way, like I'm fading away, you know? Like I have to keep doing what I'm doing or I'm just as good as dead. Maybe it's just my god messing with me, but nowadays it seems like being forgotten is just as bad as dying."

Writ blew his bangs up. Back to the depressing talk. Let's talk about something else.

"But anyways..." Writ started up again, "How's the family?"

Writ grinned, "Thanks."

"Huh." Writ was going to mention the fact that she had told him that her mom was dying, and a family with a dying mom would probably be something less than fine. The body language said it all though, Zy looked like she needed a hug.

"Ack, sorry." Writ gave her a pat on the back, which turned into a hug, "We just can't get out of our ruts, can we?"

"Things aren't going very well around the family, huh?" Writ pretty much stated the obvious right there. He sighed and held her in his arms. The Game wasn't meant for everybody. Yet somehow the gods take the nice kids to do their bidding. There was fun and adventure to be had, no doubt- but if gods kept choosing people like Zyanya, well, the genepool was going to have a surplus of douchebags for a few generations before the game ends.

"It's alright, it's alright." He pat Zy's back again, he didn't know what else he could say.

"I see." Writ kept her in his arms. His ears drooped. This wasn't the first time he's heard the story, but it still was one of those things that just got things depressing.

He gave her a pat on the back, "At least you have some good friends, right?"

Steve appeared out of the alleyway with Yectil around his neck, there were some dirty bandages wrapped around her, but at least she seemed to be alright; he was dragging Nuka by the scruff of his neck. From the looks of things, they were fine, just a little tired.

"If you're done hugging and kissing, come get your animals." Steve said flatly.