As Sage watched Pripyat, she noticed his unbid hospitality as he placed cushions for them to sit on. Sage thought that he seemed as though he might have once been a kinder fellow. He was certainly a curious one now, and if exhaustion and hunger weren't so naggingly in her way, Sage would have wanted to try to make more earnest chat with him. Presently, though, his own answers were short, and he seemed almost annoyed at her presence. Yet still he had offered it, and was allowing it.
The tawny Lykoi's gaze held his for several moments before she broke it off to stare at the ground, dark ears flicking back as his hardened tones raised again. The suggestion was about the food, though, and at that she perked up again slowly, a meek expression observing the plump bird that he held. Her mouth watered just looking at it. "Raw is fine, love," she said, smiling a week, tired smile, "I'm not picky." Other days she might have been, might have had the chance to be, but in this moment her stomach turned and pitched unhappily, a feeling she desperately wanted to soothe.
<style>
.sage-field {margin:0 auto; width:475px; background-image:url(http://i.imgur.com/TydOF.png); background-position:bottom center; background-repeat:no-repeat; padding: 0px 0px 125px 0px; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size:12px; line-height:14px; text-align:justify;}
.sage-field p.ooc {font-style:italic; text-align:justify; text-indent:0px; padding:0px 5px;}
.sage-field p {text-indent: 25px; margin:0px; padding:5px 5px;}
.sage-field b {color:#919919; letter-spacing:-.2px; }
</style>