M - sto[p] as we drop this bomb.

Barrett · 07-26-2011, 05:35 PM

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The mottled teen stared at the snow-white woman, looking perplexed. What did she mean, for what? Wasn't it obvious? Didn't she have a problem with any of this? She was old enough to be his grandmother, and she was carrying his children! So... she was going to keep the puppies? His head was abuzz, oh yes, but not from the weed. And then she nonchalantly slipped back into business, as if she only said “mighty fine weather we're having!” (or something equally inconsequential), not dropped a bombshell.

Barrett groaned softly and rubbed his face. He propped himself up better and stared numbly at her assortment of fur and crystals; he ran his hand along the tanned bear hide and held one of the minerals up for closer inspection. He caught his own reflection in it briefly, and he wondered who the wolf staring back at him was. A parent; one that had just seen a ghost. That couldn't be him, could it? He gently placed it aside and looked back to the Alpha, trying his damnedest not to stare at her baby bump, but failing miserably.

And then, finally, something sank in—she really didn't care. She didn't expect him to do anything. His eyes widened and he stared at her like a deer in headlights; in that moment, he almost loved her. The boy found his feet suddenly. “All of these things are fantastic,” he said. “Tell you what,” he continued, rummaging through his stockpile, “I'll give you twice as much as last time, and I'll throw in a sample of the good stuff on the house.” He was rolling in the outdoor crop by now, so that wasn't an issue—and even with the potent indoor product, he'd gladly part with half of what he had (a meagre ounce) if it meant he never had to think about this again.

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