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► WC: 405
► -rejoices that construction has at least temporarily ceased, allowing her to resume some kind of normalcy with regards to sleep schedule.-
Regular, meticulous grooming was a tedious undertaking that inevitably fell to the wayside in light of more interesting exploits. It was a task he begrudgingly performed only when absolutely necessary: essentially whenever things started getting poky or itchy. Only then would he pluck the briers and dried twigs from his coat or flush out the dust and mud that clung to his fur as if by magnetic attraction. As his natural colouring did a grand job of camouflaging such things, he could quite possibly get away with bathing less often than the average wolf. It wasn't as if his fur were matted or mangy--obviously some level of maintenance was expected from society, and he would oblige if only because those who completely neglected their appearance were shunned.
In any case, this woman seemed to operate on a similar wavelength while holding a certain level of intrigue; despite her initial start he found himself gravitating closer, although his entire posture and demeanour reeked of neutrality and non-aggression. His interest was, if anything, simple and almost child-like. His ears flickered forward intently as he awaited some kind of response, although he found his pale yellow gaze lifting to the white smoke that danced around her fingertips and away into the sky. He blinked when her hand moved, and the direction she suggested confirmed that he'd indeed been on the right track. "Okay, cool; thanks," he piped up in turn as his tail swung thrice in a show of gratitude.
He paused briefly to consider the question that followed; how much should he share? She was old enough that he felt he owed her an explanation (and she had just helped him out), but she was also just young enough (an illusion made stronger by what he considered an act of youthful rebellion--smoking) that he wanted to impress her. One hand lifted to brush some dark chestnut hair from his face and he tucked it behind his cap before offering a little shrug. "My mum's friend's there and I'm supposed to deliver a message," he replied nonchalantly. The words were undoubtedly truthful--he would just omit the fact the only actual message he had to deliver was 'Here I am! Mommy would be so worried if I hadn't found you!' Right... because that would make her take him seriously.
His arm swept across the dilapidated buildings and overgrown rubble. "How 'bout this place, then? Does it have a name?" he wondered, before adding: "'n how 'bout you? I'm Barrett."
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