Angel looks sad here, yes.
No, his legs aren't short, his shirt is long. X3

EDIT:
Forgot to mention, the pastor at my church saw me drawing this and said: "Oh, that's pretty cool, he looks like Tails."
My internal reaction: OwO

Anyway, here's an excerpt of a story I'm working on called "Anthros", based on my favorite RP idea, involving a world where Anthros exist among humans, but are looked down upon, and hated by most.

The crowd disperses, some grumble at the spectacle ending before the anthro's death, a couple sigh in relief. One man walks up to Samson, patting him on the shoulder before he walks away, obviously too afraid to do what he had done.
He kneels, looking at the anthro; a small, sky blue fennec, ears pointed back. The boy, no older than ten, looks at Samson with a fearful expression, pulling his bushy tail in front of him. His fur is matted and caked with dirt. Some small patches were missing, fresh scars and cuts lay underneath. On the right side of his muzzle, Samson could see a newer cut, obviously from just a few moments before.
The boy's clothing was obviously not his own. A pair of jeans torn off below the left knee, and a shirt that could belong to a teenager, and was probably white at one point. Multiple blood and mud stains littered the shirt, as well as a few cuts. The boy had been wearing it a long time, and this may have been his only outfit to wear his whole life.
Samson reaches out his hand, but the boy backs away, bumping into the dumpster behind him and crying. He looks horrified at the man who just saved his life, but that doesn't stop Samson. He holds out his umbrella, offering it to him, "It's okay, little fella, I swear, I'm not going to hurt you. I want to help." He says in a calm, soothing voice.
The boy, stuck in a dead-end alleyway, takes a few steps forward, lip quivering as he's soaked through with cold rainwater, dripping as he steps under the umbrella. "Wh-why?" He asks shakily, Samson scooting up to him.
"Because I don't want to see you hurting. People don't understand that anthros are just like them, that's why there are people like that guy I chased off." He sighs, then picks the boy up in an arm, "But for all the people out there who want you dead, there are a handful of people like me." He smiles warmly as the boy sits on his arm, his little furry arms wrapped weakly around his neck.
"And... what d-do you want?" He asks, slightly concerned and still dripping wet, the cold, dirty water soaking into Samson's suit.
"To help you any way I can." Samson replies with a smile