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Tsu d'Imoo was unhappy.

But then again, this was nothing out of the ordinary, for the male had found that in his late years, even the most minor of things would ruffle him up profoundly. In fact, it went even further than that; he was unsure why, or how come his character had turned out as it had (for unlike many, he had no real excuse for displaying such bitterness, sarcasm and harshness to the world around him... it just seemed to come naturally), however, he no longer questioned it.

He simply was as he was.

On such days, Moo found fighting a great therapy to get his spirits up. Amusingly (or not-so-amusingly) enough, the large male often found violence of some sort, be it verbal or physical, to be the only thing to cheer him right on up. He wasn't even sure what had gotten him in a bad mood to begin with, really, and tell truth, it didn't matter either, for there was only one simple solution to his problem.

Or at least, that's what his mind reasoned as he padded the sands. His frame moved without difficulty over the terrain, almost as if used to it, his bushy mane moving with the wind as he searched the air for a scent, any scent, that would indicate life within the proximity. Luck was on his side today, for a certain gust brought back the scent of another male to his nostrils, and Moo thought no further; moving swiftly along the sand, he reached the far side of the clearing just as Funsani lowered a strange object from his eyes. Standing still for a moment, red eyes evaluated his adversary before he plunged forward, lips pulled back into a snarl and claws unsheathed, almost as if he had nothing to lose... and so much to gain.

Not even the fact the other male's scent seemed to vaguely remind him of the ocean (which was, in fact, the only other thing able to cheer Moo up when he was in one of his moods), slowed his attack. No words were offered, no explanation; just the attack as he plunged towards the coppery-red figure.

Just WHAT the hell did it LOOK like he was doing? Was this red-hued male daft?

The questions floated through Moo's mind, even as he snarled and mad no outward show of having heard him at all; after all, as far as the dark pelted lion was concerned, this other male didn't look all that dangerous. In fact, Funsani's frame was lacking; he was small. Which meant he did not deserve even the time of day, or an explanation for the sudden attack.

At least, that was what Moo had thought before he'd come in contact with the smaller frame. No sooner had he tackled and attacked the pirate however, that he changed his mind. Funsani's frame thought small, was strong, and rather hard. The smaller male moved with grace while they exchanged blows, and as they moved, almost as if within a lethal dance, one against the other, his red eyes fell time and time again upon the multiple scars that adorned the red pelt; this was a lion as used to fighting as Moo himself was, albeit no doubt for diferent motives.

For once in a very long time, the large brute felt himself growing curious of his oponent, and suddenly, mid bite and lash, he pulled back, setting a few meters between them, "You're used to this," the words were growled at Funsani as he circled him, his ears flopped back, hidding against his prominent white mane. The stance he offered the pirate was no longer an offensive one, but rather, a defensive one; it was obvious the want to fight had been qwelled in favor of the mild curiosity that fogged his ming, "Why?" he kept himself on the defensive edge; almost as if expecting the other to charge back at him, waiting...

Yet some part of his mind whispered at him that this red lion didn't look like the sort to enjoy a fight just for the sake of it, "You're battle-scared, you fight well," there was obvious respect in his gruff growl, almost in the same way a soldier would acknowledge anothers' skills, "Yet you're not keen. There's no hesitation, yet at the same time there's no lust for the fight," another pause as brilliant red eyes narrowed, "Why?" he stopped circling Funsani then and regarded him with a raised head, waiting.

It was clear that the answer to that single question would determine what he thought about this male, and thus, would also determine his course of action.

Red eyes narrowed as Funsani spoke; the skin under them wrinkling, ever so slightly as the male tilted his head. It was obvious, even from such a small movement that Moo was deep in thought. The muscles that gripped his jaw tensed and relaxed; contracted in turn as he watched the old pirate, "It's not instinct," it was the first thing he'd spoken since the other tried to explain, "It's not instinct at all; it's something you have. Some have it, some don't. Either you do, or don't."

The words were rumbled deep within his chest, even as he allowed himself to sit down, his bulk shifting into a slightly more relaxed position. He'd, amusingly enough, not enjoyed a conversation in ages; tell truth, this was the first one he could really remember, as far as his mind stretched. It was a miracle his voice could still be used; it could, of course, however, it was jagged around the edges, rough, just like Tsu's own looks. Slowly, he lifted his forepaw, allowing his tongue to pass over one of the fe scratches he'd endured from the pirate's claws, licking away the blood efficiently, almost as if he'd done this a million times before. Then again, maybe he had; slowly, Moo examined the cut in a detatched manner, her lids hanging lazily over his eyes before he decided that no, they'd probably not leave scars. Their fight had been intense, yes, but very brief; not long enough to leave scars upon his pelt, "You've got it," he said softly, his gaze raising up to meet his, a brow arching, almost arrogantly, yet amusingly enough, something akin to liking had flashed through his orbs at the same time, "That thing; whatever it is that makes a fighter a fighter. You've got it," albeit reluctantly, for some odd reason.

Moo found himself to be fascinated by this fact, and for a moment, just a moment, his head tilting to one side in a childish manner; it somehow gave Funsani a peek at what was really there, bellow all the snarls, bites and agresive nature, "Old, you say; for an old-timer, you do quite well," a smirk appeared slowly upon the dark male's maw, his eyes having narrowed in thought, "I like you," quite the damned compliment too, for Moo could not recall EVER liking someone else, specialy not an adult. And quite specialy not a male, "You don't like fighting, old man; I do, however," it was obvious he was pondering, thinking as he went along; each word spoken softly, slowly, betraying the abrupt nature he'd only previously shown Funsani, "The way you talk makes me think you're attacked quite often; forced to fight," and here the smirk widened till it was almost sinister in nature, his red eyes flashing as he stood up and took a smal step forward, "How say we make a deal, old man?" his voice had lowered to a whisper as he neared the pirate.

Tell truth, Moo was fascinated. He was interested in something other than the lust for violence, for the first time in a very, very damned long time, "I'll fight for you; anyone that comes near you, I'll beat them off in the blink of an eye," he snarled, baring his teeth, "And you, in return, tell me more about yourself, and what exactly makes you tick the way you do."

"Maybe," he replied gruffly, yet that single word probably told the old pirate more than it would've told others. The tone indicated that yes, there was respect, but no, he wasn't entirely prepared to acknowledge that openly yet; at least not yet. Arching a brow, Moo tilted his head to one side, his tongue darting out to wet his nose as he regarded... watched the other; his trained eyes was looking for certain movements, aiming to read the other like a book, yet noting he was failing quite miserably and thus, growing more interested by the minute, "I know that look, old man," he smirked then, and the twitch of his maw was cold, as if the dark pelted male had never once smiled for love, or anything vaguely similar. As if all that had been missing, and he simply did not know how to offer anything other than a cold, sarcastic smirk, "Seen that look before; on my own face. On others' too," snorting, he turned his head away, leaving enough space to allow him to look at the pirate out the corner of a purple eye, "You're wondering if I've nothing to lose."

It wasn't surprising he'd hit home; he'd been asked that one before. In fact, he was more familiar with that question than with his own name, "The answer is no; ain't got nothing to lose. Nothing out there for me except the fight," his voice grew whisper-y, the sadistic smirk tugging at the edges of his maw again, "And that I can do here as well anywhere else. With the added bonus of trying to decipher you. It's a gain for me, as well as yourself, it seems," turning again, he allowed himself to finally look upon the land he'd been padding through that day. It was amusing to note how Moo hadn't really been looking.

In fact, he'd overlooked the place, never once caring for his surroundings, and finally as he glanced about, he tilted his head again, the movement childish, resembling a cub that had only just taken his first step out of the den and out into the real world, "Interesting," and he really did mean that, he noticed, and thus he offered a dry chuckle into the open, his eyes hooded as he turned his attention upon Funsani, "If the land's yours, it means you own it. Which means you're the king," another dry chuckle, "Interesting; amusing," tell truth, he'd have acted the same, had he know, or not that he was a king.

In Moo's mind there was no distinction, and amusingly enough... no lust for power. Just a lust for battle, and the adrenaline rush it brought with it. That much was obvious as he licked his maw in anticipation again, "Okay then, old man," it was clear that this was the nickname he'd given him, and thus the nick name he'd keep; despite the word, it was toned down, softly, respect mingling with his voice, perhaps some baser type of affection. The same a child would give his father, or another his teacher, "Teach me, then. Ain't got no life. Might as well make one here. Any place is as good as another; doesn't bother me," the smirk returned as she lifted his head to look at the trees, "Take me into your pride then; I'll serve you and yours. You're interesting," which was the same as telling him he'd not have to worry about him attacking his pride members; he'd earned Moo's respect, and thus got what came attached to it. Loyalty.

It was not a new word in his vocabulary; it was just he'd never met anyone worth respecting.