He continued to do work around the pack lands to benefit Naniko. In truth, it was all he really could do; he had no real skills as a craftsman, only capable of creating the simplest things, and though he was strong he was not a warrior. His capabilities were housed strictly within the realm of corporal punishment, with knowledge of what were growing to be old ways, ways of the world under the Tribunal. This new place, the people didn't understand. They threw rank around — as was the case with the foolish Marbas — that he could not understand. But maybe it wasn't them, maybe it was him; he was growing older, and his mind clung to traditions that he could not expect others to follow with the changing times. There was no place for change within the mind of the aging Acidic, however. He was doomed to be stubborn.
It was strange to hear what he wanted from her: she missed him, she appreciated him. He watched her mouth form the words, but somehow found himself surprised as the syllables reached his ears. Were they friends? He mulled the question over as she mentioned their singular, overused activity within the underground of the Tribunal's world. It brought a strained smile to his pained features, memories evoking the same familiar desires despite the pain surging through his face. Of course, in her near-birth condition, such a thing would be inappropriate — it was concern for her unborn pups rather than a distaste of her physical appearance that kept him from suggesting it.
A sigh passed through his jaws, red eyes focusing on the fire as she continued to speak. He hadn't found the words to express more, for the traditional term of love simply didn't fit — what he believed he felt for the white Queen was deeper than his words were capable of expressing and often became muddled through the actions he performed. Still, he had attempted before, hunting for her and tending to duties that he was neither obligated to perform nor were suggested by Naniko herself. It seemed that the purpose slipped through her realizations.
She chose to disclose how the conception had occurred and he simply accepted it with a silent nod, the flickering fire keeping his eyes. Drugs had been the motivation, and the bastard children simply an outcome of a trade. Her movements drew his attention back to her as she dug around and produced a glossy plastic bag filled with the aforementioned narcotic. But I can do this myself. He tilted his head subtly to the side, wondering if she meant smoking the drug or raising her children; his mind believed the latter.
"I came here...for you; without them, you are all I have to come back to." Without the Tribunal, she was home. Without Cinder, who he had never really cared for, Naniko was a familiar face of a chosen lover. She had taken in his children without complaint. She offered him a taste of his old life. Were they friends? He believed so. A strained smile came upon his face, one large and heavy hand extending to pat her thigh with care. "You're a beautiful woman, Naniko. A good woman. I take care of you for a reason." He would let her riddle out what those reasons were, still uncomfortable with the idea that he might suffer the same ephemeral lovesickness that the other fools of the pack had been. The idea forced his smile away, before she forced him out of the den.
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