SIE LAGS, SHE DOES>
To be truthful, Rurik certainly didn't mind Strel's prodding and poking; it was nice to see that the other wolf was taking such care and pride in his work. Rurik was not a craftsman of any sort; his artistic ability was limited to the ability to place piercings in others, which he was only experienced at the eyebrow and ear sort of piercings. His nipple ring had been added somewhere over in Europe—he had been drunk when he got it, and he couldn't exactly remember where or how he'd got it done, only that he'd woken up the next morning with a terrible pinch in his right nipple, and found that it had a pretty silver ring. Sure, he could have taken it out, but then there wouldn't be any pleasure from it anymore. He'd discovered that the ring was quite good for that, so, despite his brothers' prodding upon his return home, he kept it the hell in.
Though Rurik hadn't intended his words to indicate Strel and his leader were an item, the other canine had apparently taken it that way, and almost immediately the werewolf's coal-dipped ears folded backwards in embarassment. “Oh no,” he said, grinning sheepishly. “I didn't mean it quite like that. No worries, though. He'll enjoy it when he does,” he said, still rather embarassed over his implication, even if he hadn't really intended it that way. The silver-furred werewolf was glad to find the conversation moving onward, and he nodded eagerly at the mention of prime beaches. “Sounds like just my kind of spot,” he said with a smile, less sheepish this time.
The other canine's words caught the Russian wolf's attention, and he nodded eagerly—the coast had to be the first stop. He simply couldn't imagine settling down in a landlocked pack; he required some salt and sand for true fulfillment, anyway. The only possible problem Rurik foresaw was that he certainly was not planning on settling anywhere permanently; he would devote his resources and time to a pack for some time, surely, but he was not in it for the long run. There was no coquetry and playfulness where that was concerned—Rurik was a wanderer, there was no doubt about that. “I'd love to see the ocean,” the silver-furred werewolf said, smiling encouragement at his friend.
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