It would have been a collision with the tom who had taken his place near the tree to do his daily brooding, if it wasn't for the fact that Miles, although seemingly off in his own world, had been alert to the chance the tom would miss. He was able to dodge the ginger-and-white cat's body narrowly as it came crashing down on him. However, he was not able to miss the leaves that flew in every direction. Unfortunatley for the little guy, his mouth had stayed open. This meant that a few of those very leaves landed with a crunch between his teeth. He frowned before spitting them out, brushing his muzzle once he had regained his composure from his quick dash to prevent being landed on. His eyes were still bewildered, and right between them, in the space of his forehead he could not see, was another leaf. Of course, this would make it hard to take anything he would say seriously. It also put him at risk. If anyone from the royal family, particularly his father, had seen him with a piece of head regalia on, he would have been toast for sure. This was just another rule of being the child of the royal family, and these rules were drilled in his head over, and over, and over.

Another thing that had been drilled in his head was conflict negotiation. Even at a young age, Lindon, his father, had trained him to be a diplomat. By his ripe age of four months old, this meant that he had learned that raising his voice was unacceptable. "Hey!" he squeaked, his voice louder than this acceptable level. "Did you get raised in a barn or did just no one tell you to watch out?" Two rules being broken in the span of thirty seconds? A third, if you counted the potential insult tacked into his statement as he pretended that he was big, bad Miles, instead of little, sad Miles. Boy, would he be in trouble if the wrong cat stumbled by.

If it were any consolation to Sweetkit, Miles didn't really know the pecking order either. This was, in part, because he never really listened when his father, or anyone really, tried to explain to him the politics of the group. Kya, his sister, was always the one to be obedient and observant. Miles thought that Lindon, their father, had always had more faith that Kya would make something of herself much more than he had faith that Miles would. That was fine by Miles. He was perfectly okay with being the family's disappointment. He didn't have the heightened sense of superiority taught to the Harlow clan, at least not really. He was taught to carry himself differently, but the look always present in his eyes proved he didn't really beleive there was a point in this. Was there a point in anything?

The dark tabby's eyes narrowed when his fellow kitten started to laugh. "Why, I never!" he grumbled before Sweetkit spoke, his fur raising slightly. What possibly could this cat be laughing at him for ? It was then that Sweetkit started to speak. Abject horror passed through his gaze. Hat? What hat? Oh no... The kitten felt heat rushing to his cheeks as he immediately tried to swat away any possible thing that was on his head with a paw. The leaf fell to the ground, and the look didn't ever quite leave Miles' eyes. What if someone had seen that?

The look quickly turned to an accusation, though, as he puffed his chest. "Well I-I-I wou-woulda not had a h-ha-hat if someone didn't make a f-f-ool of themselves!" he squeaked, stamping his foot to try to hide the complete embarassment that cloaked his face and voice.

The small creature's body was very small, almost curled into itself. It created more distance between the two, perhaps more than was necessary. Of course, this reaction was one that was taught. Had he been a cat who was not brought up in the strict rules of royalty, perhaps Myles would have been different, in more ways than one. He definitely wouldn't have reacted this way to something so trivial, at least. There would come a time where he no longer reacted to things like this at all, but the tom had not managed to grow to the point where he was content with being the family disappointment.

There was part of him that wanted to bolt, that assumed that the tom was being condescending towards him. He had to be, right? No one had ever apologized to him before. He felt the embarrasment and horror become tinged with anger at the idea of being mocked. "Of course it would bother me so much," he meowed, trying to keep his voice level (but failing miserably). "Crowns are meant for Kerrigan and Everette only... I disgraced the family name, and you want to make fun of me for it!"

Myles wished that he was a nobody. Wouldn't it be so much easier if he was a nobody? If he had no one to disappoint? He wasn't cut out for stuffy royalty, although he wasn't exactly sure what he was cut out for. Probably nothing, if the others of the family were right about him. It wasn't probably the most fair, the way that they treated him. Not only was Lindon hard on him, but everyone seemed to compare him to Kya. He wasn't his sister, he didn't want to be a part of this dumb family... Even the thought made his eyes water a little bit. For this reason, there would always be a part of him that was rather... envious and sensitive, especially about the kittens who didn't grow up with such an iron fist.

"You won't?" he meowed after a moment, trying to sniff away any emotion that could be seen still in his face or voice. Not only was he sensitive, but he was inherantly distrustful. "Why wouldn't you? They would hail you as the cat who took down the nephew of the throne." Myles' still wasn't quite done shaking, although the words came out a little more normal. "Isn't that what cats outside the royal family do? Try to set the family of the crown on fire and bring them down in whatever way they can?"