BiC:
Slay grunted as Cercelee's white paw cuffed him, and turned to jut his lip poutily at her. "No need to be violent, my valiant dovely, unless I am to use the same force in return..." He let his muzzle crinkle into a lopsided grin, flashing back on their romp on the beach. He couldn't deny it - he really did get a kick out of the rough-housing play. Bandying words was one thing, but getting tumbled to the ground was so much better! But perhaps so early in the morning, it was too much to hope for. The arctic wolf rose to his paws, yawning widely so that the morning sun glinted on his pale fangs. "And how do you get off saying that grass isn't edible? I daresay, those deer you like to much on certainly seem to enjoy it."
He watched the clever actress change her tact yet again, adopting a wheedling beggar's tone, matched only by her pleading gaze. "Oh, like I can say 'no' to that face - not as though you could really starve, though..." Slay let his ebony tail wave in the air as he began to trot jauntily away, calling casually over one shoulder, "I mean, only a skinny wolf like myself could actually starve..."
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