[/html]He seemed apathetic to the death of his nephew, insulting the deceased as he touched the pelt of the boy once known as Izaak. She was repulsed by the words, simply for the fact that Izaak had been his family. If it had been anyone else, she would have cared less. If it had been a wolf, she would have joined in on the insults. But Izaak had been Cotl's blood and it was such disrespect to talk that way about him.
She watched with distant crimson eyes as he pulled himself up to sit against the wall while she stretched, resting her arms behind her head when she was finished. He watched her in turn, studying her face before falling to her body. It left her uneasy, purely because she felt ugly in her own skin, but she didn't let on that she was anything but confident. Another glance around the room as he chuckled caused her to realize the skull that sat on the counter; she held back a grimace, turning her attention to Cotl in an attempt to rid herself of the sight.
The German was offering her liquor. One of her black-dipped ears twitched, eyes looking for the booze. She had missed it earlier, her mind filled with other thoughts, but it sat on the counter as well. "I suppose it wouldn't hurt," she mumbled, reaching a tan-furred hand out to grasp the bottle. Straight up, no additives. The way Talitha preferred it. One satisfying swig later, the coymutt woman glanced back toward her friend. "You shouldn't talk about Izaak like you do. Especially not now."
Perhaps she was overstepping boundaries, but she was firm in her belief and custom. Without keeping her eyes on the ginger-hued male, she waited for an answer, keeping her eyes on the bottle.
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