they whisper words into my ears.

[Shakadyn]

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To hell with fancy tables! Viva la revolución! D'Angelo, huh? He was running into a lot of them, wasn't he? Her first reply had charmed him into a grin, even. "Well, I like you...r style," and then, with only a moment's devilish thought, he said, "I suppose, for all intents and purposes, you could call me Lysander." It was smooth and dignified enough. In fact, he might just make it official, or at least an official mask. He could have told her with his nose that she was a pack wolf, but... Clouded Tears. Wasn't that interesting. Even if he'd been gone for a year and a half, some of the soft familial wolf scents that he could smell on her fur were reminiscent of the Chimeran wolves he'd known. Shakadyn was not exactly a gossip so much as he was a pain in the ass, which spurned another question. He was far from feeling too awkward to make conversation with strangers today (more like right now, the way he was bouncing about) — and anyway, she'd told him her name, so they weren't technically strangers any more, right? "Tears, then? Really? What happened to Chimera?" Yeah, true enough that he could have worded it so that he sounded a little less like a stalker, but he fancied it obvious enough that he'd been around before. He let his mind run away with him. Marauding pirates? A war? Brutal massacreing by a rival pack or coyotes? (He wouldn't be surprised to find that the last was somewhat true, had he found out.) It was a way to pass the time, anyway. Thinking always was. Some might say he did too much of it. Save for the occasional glance over at Naniko, he kept his eyes on his path... Bad habit. C'mon, man, someone said. The world's wide and wonderful! Get an eyeful while you still can! His internal voices had quite a way of sounding like something taken from a self-help book and the diary of a madman simultaneously. He'd seen enough of the world to satisfy him (you liar, you're always bitching about traveling more) and enough of the people in it to satisfy him, too... so what was he doing here? Being contrary, that's what he was doing. Another bad habit — turned pro, this time.

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