Mutant Mice

"I'm not a pipsqueak." Ares waved a paw in dismissal. A silent "yeah yeah" sort of manner. This kid didn't know him well enough to know that his comment had been rhetorical or...joking or whatever. Clearly, the kid wasn't a pipsqueak, but hey, if he was younger then it still kinda-sorta counted, right? "I'm Tyrfing Finnvi, not Saxe, but Chaos is my dad." Finnvi? Huh...that name sounded familiar to him but he couldn't quite place it. "So the old man caved and let ya'll take your mom's name I'm assuming? If it's who I think it is, she must've strong-armed him or somethin' I dunno. Either way, Chaos is your dad and my dad, which makes me your older brother." Wow...that was weird to say...

All that weirdness aside, he focused on the other weirdness going on. "I wanted to catch one to see if it could be bred. We keep other animals, why not creepy glowing ones? Maybe they give better-then-normal meat." Ares shrugged as he stared up at the weird mice. "I mean, sure I guess. Mice breed like there's no tomorrow, but I dunno that you want meat from 'em...you'd need a shit ton of mice to feed a wolf, I mean have you seen the size of our family? You and I alone could eat a barrel or two full of 'em!"

The kid's latter question about him possibly getting in trouble brought a chuckle from the older Saxe. "Nah, I don't think so. If we got in trouble for all the dumb shit we did all the time, we'd be boring goody do-gooders like...Abaven...or something. And we don't roll that way. If you wanna catch one, go for it. Just uh, I guess I should tell you to be careful yada yada, cuz I'm not takin' the fall for you if dad asks questions."

That was a good disclaimer as any, right? As for the kid catching the mice, he was interested in seeing him try. He himself didn't have claws to climb up shit like Tyr, so unless the glowing freaky mice came down to his level, he was content with sitting back and watching.