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Machidael is by me!
The rusty-hued hybrid paid rapt attention to the other man's words, concentrating hard to understand them. They were wrapped in that strange accent -- it was not so brutal as trying to understand one of these natives, but it was difficult, all the same. Machidael was only truly fluent in Arabic, and he struggled with this English language. Some part of him knew he must learn it, but there was resistance within him, all the same.
He shook his head and grinned toothily with the man's offer. Assegai throw, no stick, he explained. The weapon was nearly useless in close quarters -- it was best to spear his prey from a distance, whether it was antelope or Luperci. Machidael Lykoi, he said. It was strange, introducing himself with a surname -- it had never seemed to matter much, but here -- this was where that name and his father came from. Perhaps his siblings were about, too -- the rusty-furred hybrid remembered when he saw them last, far across the ocean. What you? he asked, exhaling a cloud of smoke with the word, passing the join back wordlessly.
The shadow-streaked hybrid pricked both ears in interest as the other canine spoke his city's name, but differently than Machidael had ever pronounced it. Alexandria, he repeated, voice so thick with accent it sounded almost the same as it had the first the time he said it. Still, the russet hybrid gave a toothy grin and his gold tooth glittered as the other canine spoke another word he knew. Africa, he agreed. North, he said, although in Arabic, as he did not know the English directionals.
With the stranger's invitation, Machidael settled to the floor, his wrap sliding up his legs as he did so. The hybrid tugged it down wordlessly and pondered the other canine with red eyes, already feeling the fire of the joint. He grinned again, broad and wordless, and nodded his apparent approval of the substance.
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