Avery's a survivor. He came from "a house known to Animal Control" where cats weren't fixed and the occupants simply enjoyed the kittens until they were cats and then essentially abandoned them outdoors. Two rescue organizations and Animal Control had to come in to rescue more than 40 cats. Avery was originally deemed too old to bring in; he was trapped, neutered and released with a feral colony, but he wasn't accepted there and the person feeding the colony felt he was friendly enough to give him another shot. He seems pretty even-keeled; he just wants to be sure he has a protected space from which he can assess things. If it's next to the warm radiator, so much the better! He's broken out his purr, but it's been hard to tell if he's eaten anything. He did just use one of the litter boxes (whew!).
Wilson seems to be vacillating between trust and happiness one moment and anxiousness the next. (He's also simultaneously LASHING his tail, purring and rolling over on his back--go figure.) He was thrown from a car in Somerville; what he endured before that we don't know. He's a big beautiful bear of a boy. I've managed to get him to eat and drink, and he's even used the litter box I want them to use. (I know, TMI. But if I know they're set on the basics--food, water and elimination--I can sleep with some level of comfort!) His preferred hiding spot is a little more remote: under the bed in the spare bedroom. But I peer under there periodically, and he seems content that I know he's there but that I'm not making him come out when he doesn't want to. He has been out, of course, and he's been both cuddly and playful--he just needs to retreat when the pendulum swings that way again.
They were both being fostered in a single room with a third cat; the house, in addition to being totally unfamiliar and having other cat markings all over it, must be huge to them. They're really doing well under the circumstances!