 Aw, Skoll is adorable, lmao. <3 the awkward. “So it—extends your reach?” Skoll asked, and Jimson nodded. "Pretty much, yeah. Y'just gotta be careful not t'get too attached to it, 'cause if someone does get past it'n at you wi' their teeth'n claws, it don't do y'no good up in close like that -- y'gotta be okay w'droppin' it'n takin' care o'business wi' yer hands. But if y'can keep a person far 'nough away t'use the staff, it hits a li'l bit harder, too, 'cause y'got the weight 'o th' stick flyin' at 'em as well's yer own." It was advice given freely, because Skoll had said "maybe" to Jimson's offer -- and so Jimson sensed that the male might be about to invite him in. And wielding a staff was something at which the dog was proficient. The wolves back home were uncivilized, and everyone in his family was trained in some matter of weaponry to protect themselves and the sheep. It was, as the stories went, how the humans managed to rule before their extinction, even without terribly noticeable teeth or claws. And then to the heart of the matter. “It isn’t up to me, but maybe Cour des Miracles could be that home?” Skoll ventured, before seeming to check himself, as if he'd overstepped his bounds. “I mean—well—at least you shouldn’t stay out here tonight, with the danger and everything, even if you’re big and you can bash people in the head with your stick. If, uh, if you want. I can call a leader if that’s the case.” Jimson chuckled a little at the wolf-dog's wording, and nodded his head. "That'd be real nice, Mister Haskel, iffen y'don't mind. I sure do 'preciate it. Be nice t'spend the night without worryin' over whether one o' them big ol' bears y'all got up here's gonna try'n make a snack o'me. He'd have a helluva headache the next mornin', but I dun like losin' sleep 'less I gotta." |
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