Rivers remained motionless as Wretch supported herself on the tree nearest to her, a vague look of worry in his eyes for a moment. Had she been injured by one of the bandits? He followed her finger as she pointed to various scars and marks from previous fights, saying she had been in scraps before. With one glance at the freshest injury on her thigh, he immediately assumed it was the other Lupercis' doing, and frowned slightly, not aware of the true origin of the wound. He noted the defensive pitch in her voice, and decided to respect it. She seemed like the type to remain solitary, even in the midst of someone she could "trust," and Rivers wasn't about to play medic if she had it under control. He cleared his throat softly as she took a scrap of fabric from a blanket and wound it around her cut.
Rivers heard her say a thank you, and his charming grin returned to his lips. "Anytime," he answered, letting his left arm fall back by his side while his right planted itself on his hip. He was going to say more, specifically about her apparent independence, but reasoned against it. Instead, he gave an understanding nod, his beam softening a bit.
As she finished with her wound, Rivers had busied himself by straightening his jeans, and ran a hand through his mane in an attempt to hopelessly rid it of tangles. As Wretch asked another question, he glanced up, his muzzle dipping towards the ground a bit. "'Round these parts?" he parroted in his own wording, then lifted his nose a bit. "Oh, just... visitin', I guess. Returnin' to the 'hood. I used to live here way back when, back before I got myself a pack of my own. It holds some sort of value to me, if I were to bet. Nice beach here, too." He paused for a moment, then remembered her original question. "But this specific neck, well... Thank your little birdie for that. Heard him from the rougher stretch of the beach. I guess we both owe it to your friend, huh?"
After this, a question of his own started to form in his mind. Resting his hand on the back of his neck, Rivers cleared his throat again. That seemed to be becoming a subconscious tic for him, as he didn't realize he was doing so, and the rough noise of air reverberating in his throat didn't seem to surface to him yet. "You got a pack of your own, Wretch? Don't seem to reek of any pack I've crossed paths with. Or are you... on your own?" It was an innocent question in Rivers' mind, and he hoped she wasn't defensive about her family ties. If she was, though, that was fine, too; he would apologize for being curious later. But for now, he just blinked at her, awaiting an answer.
Image courtesy of miez!
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