The fingers of his black furred hand flexed, loosing balling into a fist and then releasing. Golden eyes looked at the male that had come to stand in the path that Heath had settled on taking. The road was wide enough that he could avoid the stranger, who stood more as a half-hearted sentry rather then blocking his next paw steps. Heath, however, found his presence beyond his comfort. Gaze took in the sight of the seemly coyote male, and as his mind had returned to the need for booze, he also found that it yearned for the trials of confrontation. Months had gone where he had been at peace with every creature that came his way, and yet Heath tasted the tension in the air and found he missed it.
No?, Heath thought, brows and ears moving skywards as he spoke. The smoke billowed in the large empty space that hung between them, and Heath watched his face behind the smog veil. His own face grew hard in the frown that covered it, and tried to decipher the English that was hidden beneath the heavy accent. Who was this male to tell him where to, and not to go? Heath, being in a state of emotions upheaval, was slightly glad that for once he was given a challenge that he knew how to fight. “You own this place?” Heath questioned, speaking of the store where he was headed, as well as the street they walk upon, even the air their breathed. Did he think he owned all of it?