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She struck him as familiar; perhaps it was her somewhat regal mannerisms in speech, but the woman possessed a business-like method of speaking while remaining at a humble and harmless tone. He could respect that really, considering the only reason he was respected was because he was so damn freaky looking. Well, at least he had that to hold onto, if nothing else. The fact that she mentioned a medic had his blood boiling somewhat, as he was unsurprisingly reminded of Deuce and his lack of affinity for her and the way he'd been deserted, but that was in the past now, wasn't it? They needed a new healer at some point or other. There wasn't any harm in helping her out a little while... he supposed it would get his mind off his restlessness, anyway.


"Yeah, sure," he shrugged, somewhat overwhelmed by her long-winded response to his simple questions. He peered one-eyed at the hawk that accompanied her, oddly perplexed by its presence and the fact that it had been tamed, but nothing was impossible anymore. Hell, he was a living statement of that. A million slashes and handicapped at least twice, and he was leading a pack somehow. He turned on his heel, beginning to stride back into his packlands with the general expectation to be followed. "Our last leader was a healer, but she took off some time ago. Gave the pack to me, but we don't have a medic." He shrugged. "Anyway, this is Phoenix Valley. I'm Jefferson." He kept his back to her, shallowly digging his good claw into one of his pockets.

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