Bramblepoint The shape of brat pop to come

Peregrine didn't mind the touch. He welcomed it, even, and returned it with another sweep of his own snout. He let Lasher hold his gaze for several beats, then drew back slowly. He offered the other man an apologetic smile. He didn't really want to leave but he wouldn't make Fox and the pups wait on him.

"Sure," he replied easily to Lasher's invitation. "What if we have a standing..." He almost said date but he discarded that term. "What if we agree to meet on a regular basis? Once a month?" He threw the time frame out there for Lasher to take or leave—perhaps it was too frequent or not frequent enough—and canted his head patiently.