Words:
Caprica hadn't realised she would be running into such a wonderfully useful volunteer today, or she would have brought a more heady variety of beverages. All she had was designed for her own taste: the spicy, sweet warm wine was not necessarily the flavour of this rugged wanderer. She should have offered him spirits in a jar; rough and ready. She offered the bottle in his direction, leaving it up to him to take it from her paw, then her face fell in dismay. "But, you're limping," she exclaimed. "Did you hurt yourself on the way down?" She hoped she wasn't responsible for the injury, and once again found herself cursing her lack of first-aid or healing knowledge. Was this another stray in need of her, and would she be allowed the privilege, this time, of bringing him into the fold to be cared for?
Image courtesy of Ant Jackson@Flickr; Table by the Mentors!
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