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There is clear pride taken in this tom’s appearance, always well groomed, clean, muscles well maintained. He keep a firm routine in his day that tends to his physical state, so well that his scars might be missed by the ones who don’t study him: the notch in his ear, the thin line from his temple to his jaw, the few round burns tucked under his pelt along his back, the nicks and scrapes. It’s impossible to miss those eyes, though. Dark, gleaming copper, and they’re anything but friendly. Devoid of most emotion, he keeps himself as unwelcoming as he can. Leave him be, his eyes say. Leave him to his solitude.