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He tried so valiantly to make the Californian mutt feel better about joining the pack; in truth, it wasn't that she felt distaste for the pack itself, it was simply the word that got to her. Pack. The name brought forth many negative connotations in her mind, of places that didn't love the individual, but rather loved the number they brought to the group. Her mother's family, when she had lived with them in her childhood, had been such a thing. Family was a term she was familiar with, and a term she preferred to the strict idea of a pack life. She didn't bring up her thoughts, however, unwilling to let Bartholomew know why she seemed displeased by it.
Instead, she gave him the little clay piano, knowing he didn't play one. It was simply what she had made while thinking of him, and it did suit at least one of the personalities lodged inside of the Russo. A smile crossed her muzzle, touching her eyes with small wrinkles at the corners. A happy Bartholomew meant a happy Krystalle, though she was often happy on her own. It was simply the icing to a very cheerful cake to see her favored friend in such a mood. He offered her a place to sleep, stepping back into the house to let her in. She glanced behind her quickly before darting into the dwelling, letting Senorita snort and rest near the door. "I think tha' Mars has some teas somewhere in teh house." She gave a nod, to indicate she wouldn't mind some.
Her eyes swept across the room in pink silence, giving her something to do aside from gawking at the fact that, after all that time, her friend was really before her. She'd found him. "It's nice to see you again, Barty. I was startin' to give up, was gonna go home to my papa and his family." Her father's group was a desperate decision for the Horzana woman, since she had fled them to begin with. Without the Russo wolf, she didn't know what to do with herself.
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