Chapter Text
Techno knew animals well and he knew the smell of fear.
The rabbit had been terrified, so terrified that it had tried to run despite its legs barely being able to hold its weight. Not that it weighed much to begin with. It was easy enough for him to tuck the rabbit into the sleeve of his overshirt and climb the ladder to his bedroom that way.
Setting the rabbit down on one of the many pillows that made up his bed, Techno took off his glasses and placed them on the nightstand.
“Listen, Gary, you can stay up here tonight but you better not poop on my bed, okay?”
The rabbit’s ears swiveled around towards him.
“I mean it,” said Techno, shaking a finger at the rabbit. “You poop on my bed and I’m gonna make earmuffs out of you, got it?”
The rabbit looked at him and then bit down on the corner of the pillow, chewing on the fabric as it stared at Techno.
“Are you kiddin’ me right now?” Tugging off his overshirt, Techno folded it up loosely and tossed it towards the open drawer of his dresser. “Is this because you don’t like bein’ called Gary?”
Even the soft fabric of the pillow made the rabbit’s jaw and broken teeth hurt and so it laid down, paws tucked under it, having made its point.
“Yeah, yeah, alright, so maybe it’s not the best name for a bunny but you’ll just have to get used to it, alright, man? Besides, you look like a Gary to me,” he said.
The rabbit lifted its head, nose twitching, giving Techno one last baleful stare before it closed its eyes.
Techno gave a snort.
If he didn’t know better, he would say that the rabbit understood him, that it was responding to what he was saying and doing. But he did know better and Techno knew that rabbits, no matter how clever, didn’t understand people. Perhaps they could guess at intent based on instinct but not sass him over a name choice.
He also knew enough to know that rabbits didn’t have green eyes and this rabbit’s eyes were a dark green, like emerald that had caught the faint light of a torch in a dark cave. Techno shook his head, the corner of his mouth curling up into a grin as he got into bed.
“Definitely looks like a Gary,” he said.
The rabbit didn’t feel as safe sitting on the pillow as it had the basket.
The basket had walls and it could curl up, half hidden in the towel. Now it felt too exposed. There was irony in that, knowing it had escaped from a place that was all walls and now it was wishing for walls. The wicker of the basket, however, was different than stone. The rabbit could chew through wicker.
It watched the pigman until he had fallen asleep, chest rising and falling. He snored and the rabbit wasn’t surprised by that fact at all.
He always looked like someone who snored, it thought.
The rabbit flicked its ear.
Always? Was that the right word?
It decided that it didn’t care; there was a blanket right next to the pillow that looked soft and it hopped down, kneading the fabric for a moment with its paws before it curled up. The pigman was close but the rabbit knew he wouldn’t crush it.
How it knew, the rabbit couldn’t say. Or wouldn’t say.
It closed its eyes.
Even rabbits had secrets.