A Dog's Den

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Following the hours after the visit from the Rat King and her entourage of a thousand criticisms, the growing crew of misfit bastards gathered in their den beneath a slum-house roof. The meeting had left them with a lot to digest, and a lot to consider. The fire burned lazily in the hearth, oozing an orange glow over the faces of those who were still awake, who silently sat with their thoughts.

"Dis 'as turned ou' in'chresting so far." Victor broke the silence, his voice a soft mutter. He had been progressing unremarkably and had pulled himself up to sit stiffly at the table beside Atticus and Rex, bowls with dregs of pumpkin soup sat on the table before them.
"Et's all ovah so li'l." he continued with a soft chuckle "No wunduh dese people 'r constan'ly at each otha's froats."

"I think what ya said before holds true though, Vic" the large varren on his left spoke up, turning her blue eyes his way.
"Da slums are owned by da people. Not some rich fella takin' dose people's business fuh granted. Does he live in da slums? Does he experience da life of da people hea? Dere hardships? Does he sleep oan hay n' eat gruel fa breakfast, lunch 'n dinna? No he sits in his hoity-toity home 'n has hot baths, lettin' his men live tha low life for him."
Returning the varren's gaze, Victor gave a small, humbled smile. "I 'preciate you, Rex."
"I mean it!" She sat up, a frown on her face. "I've lived here my whole life. I been livin' in dis shit my whole life, and if some bastard with a lavish home tried ta tell me he's all dat, dat he's wunnuv us? Dat he's ta be respected? Well boy, I tell yuh." she huffed, shaking her head.
"Hm." Atticus grunted. "Don't fuhget, Rex, he prob'ly holds the respect of the people 'cause he splashes his dough around on drinking nights, n' otha such endevours."
Victor rubbed his eyes tiredly at this, groaning.
"As if dat's what dey need righ' now-"
"Nuh, but its what dey want, Vic." Atticus interrupted, thumping his fist softly against the old wooden surface of the table. "You think dey wanna sit around in a circle an' hold hands, singin' about da hard life? United hearts against da cold of da night? No. Dey want free booze and ta have-at each otha within an inch. of dere. lives."
Victor sat and digested this, put in his place. He eventually gave a stiff nod.
"Ets 'arder to 'preciate you sumtimes Atty," he finally said with a defeated chuckle "But I do. Yer right."
"Yea he is, and I hate it." Rex interjected.
"Aye, ya hate it, ya indignant sod." retorted Victor, shoving the bulk of her shoulder with a grin
"Yeah thats what I said. Whadda ya want from me?!"
"I wanna know, where we do take et from 'ere?"
The varren furrowed her wrinkled brow at Victor's question, dumpy fingers pressed to her mouth.
"Cause ya know as much as I do dat ets gonna be a group effort. Nun'uh us 'r the kind ta be sole leaders of this, we respect each otha too much for et."
"Or-" Atticus retorted to Victor with a wry smile "-We don' respect ourselves enough to duhclare dat kinduh position."

The three sat in silence for a while longer.
"Awright, well. 'M makin' da executive decision ta hustle our asses outa 'ere, den."
Rex looked to victor at this "An' go where? I ain't got nowhere else but here."
With an empathetic smile, victor rubbed the varren's shoulder.
"Ya don' need ta worry about dat anymore. Go n' gaver ya fings n' rouse da othas- oh, n' Atty?"
The man looked to Victor, a brow perked.
"'M gonna need ta borrow a box a' matches."

I obtained the character-response guidance of @Jovee and @Pauleen on discord whilst writing this.
Artwork by me.
@Rinus @Honeyrnoon ​