After a brief moment's hesitation, Arwen got the message, and they both downed their rabbits; Slade finished a bit earlier than she, as he had started earlier, but it wasn't long after when she offered him another one. Common sense told him that he was full and really shouldn't have another one; his tongue protested. That was some really tasty rabbit....
Still, Slade chose to betray his taste buds and was about to reply that he was fine, but noticed that she had already walked away from her rabbit's carcass and towards a nearby log. Then she froze. Slade stiffened. It was just a log... nothing wrong.... Then she spoke.
He lifted his nose to the air and caught the unmistakable scent of blood. His ears flattened. Only a cruel canine would smear the blood of a victim on a log, no matter what kind of prey they had caught.... He shook the thought away, but a low growl escaped his throat. That had to be connected to the pack's drama in some way.
Right now, though, he wasn't going to think about it; as his anger subsided he became extremely thankful that he hadn't decided to take another rabbit. He managed to choke out an answer. "I've lost my appetite." And with that, he didn't really want to think or prey or blood or anything along those lines anymore. Arwen's description of what she thought had happened was enough to make him want to retch already.
Trying to change the subject, he let himself return to a casual stance and asked, "So what bought you to Cercatori d'Arte?" It was a fair and honest question; he wasn't trying to intrude her privacy, and she wasn't obliged to answer if she had some sort of dark or sad reason for coming. He was just curious, maybe nosy. He also wondered if they had anything in common; the reason he had gotten along so well with Deidre was because they shared a somewhat-similar past. Nothing said he couldn't make friends with this female, too.
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