"Nah, they're ok. They're bumming pants," he says, nudging the ripped denim.
The mouse moved quickly, sniffing alertly and seemingly unafraid. Starvin' Marvin looked on tentatively, keenly interested but somewhat confused. Soon enough, their noses met, the mouse stretching up to sniff Marvin's chin. M hissed sharply, and the mouse crouched down, flattening its body against the pocket of jeans it was crawling on as a dark spot spread out underneath it.