Cap it after your poast? 
Though Rurik knew he was no danger to anybody else, shitfaced or not, if he had been of a sounder mind he certainly would have understood the coal-colored woman's distress; as it were, the silver-shaded werewolf was completely obliterated, and he had no idea why she was quite so angry with him. Recognition clicked in the blue-eyed man's eyes as she asked about his pack, and the werewolf stood up straight, and placed one of his hands over his chest. “I am Captain Rurik Russo, Duke of Cour des Miracles pack,” he proclaimed, grinning his sloppy silly grin at her. It fell off of his face at her next words, and there seemed to be a hurt filtering through his eyes. “Aye, I vill go, I vill go. Sorry,” he said quickly, turning around and wandering in the direction he hoped was home.
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