Mother Dearest [Destruction]

Dillinger didn't rightly care who his father was. He was inconsequential, unimportant. He wasn't here, his mother was and she was the only thing that mattered, at least in his mind. He rose to his pads after his request, if his mother wished him to perform a task or if she wished to punish him he would take it like a man. He was no coward, he was no weakling, his mother had not raised him to be soft and if anything was the driving force behind his mindset it was his mom. All he wanted was to see her pleased. The rest of the world could damn themselves to hell for all he cared.

Her answer to his rather blunt inquiry had him cocking his skull to the side, ears twitching as if trying to decide if what he had heard was translated to his brain correctly, he had free reign? He got to choose? This was new. His mother instructed, gave him goals, demands, orders that she expected to be met but never had he been asked what he wished to do. The answer threw him and the rather stretched bout of silence that followed showed that clearly.

His dark body slid closer to her, his head cocking this way and that, thinking, analyzing. He wanted to say something that would please her, make that crooked grin curl the edges of her mouth, for as nasty as Dillinger could be, he adored his mother. With a huff he narrowed his gaze and finally answered his mothers inquiry. "Teach me something new, something useful, something I can practice at until I make you proud." Unwavering in his certain, he met his moms gaze, awaiting her reply.