Suddenly she wasn't feeling much like relaxing. She sat up tall, her eyes utterly black in the low light, and her white teeth showed as she interrupted his casual referral to the alcohol, with a sharp "What kind of revenge?" What kind of a person was this tiny dog, she wondered now, with the dubious name and the odd collection of items which he didn't seem to care about, strewn randomly as they were. Maybe, and this was why she'd asked the question, maybe he was just kidding around - after all, why would Mysterious tell a stranger what he was up to if he was really threatening someone? Unless he was an idiot. Which she wasn't necessarily ruling out. And if he really did have some kind of vendetta, who exactly was he threatening? One of the existing packmates? He had said no name, and Caspa didn't expect he would, maybe not even if she asked directly. Her claws tensed, gripping against floorboard and her own palms as she scrutinised his face for clues as to what was going on in that terrier head.
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