OOC: Nice entrance, especially since Slade doesn't quite like puppies. XD
Assuming Valinta is in optime form?
Slade's story continued and went on as Jag explored the town and--oh sweet mother of coyotes, what the heck crashed into him? The effect was greatly exaggerated, as he hadn't been paying much attention to what was going on not far away, so deep in thought as he told his story inwardly, and he staggered to regain his footing.
All of this happened in seconds, and Slade couldn't help but look mindlessly forward for a moment, subconsciously aware of someone talking nearby, wondering what in the world had startled him so badly. When he finally shook his head quickly and turned to the culprit, he saw a black female and a puppy. No surprise there. Slade didn't exactly have the highest opinion of puppies, and whenever he felt the need to rant about them he was going to use this as a prime example.
It took a moment for him to recognize that the mother was Valinta LeStrange. She had saved him in the bush incident a while ago; the last time he had seen her was a quick glance during the snowstorm, when she was still pregnant. He glanced from her to the pup, wondering if this furball was her son. He would never understand why anyone would ever want to be constantly pestered by the giant fleas that were puppies. For the most of it they weren't smart enough to have a decent conversation, couldn't sit still, had a tendency to be whiny and loud, and amused themselves by smashing into strangers.
Slade could have mentally ranted about puppies until the sun came up in April, but he forced himself to drag his thoughts back to the situation, he spoke. "Hello, Valinta," His voice was casual enough, but his flattened ears, rigid stance and tail, and raised head clearly said otherwise. "This is your son?" He willed himself not to spit out the word or glare at the pup.
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