Ravensblood Forest drop an olιve ιn yoυr glaѕѕ

She regarded him coolly – stirring irritation in the shadowrunner at the very fact she knew these lands were to be claimed but held such indifference to the group that called these woods home. Her question elicits a light pause from him as he studies her darkly, prowling even closer as if to encourage her to continue her way out. “I am,” he rumbles, allowing the silence to wash over them as he waits to see what she intends to do with this information.
 
She was a poised woman – the little emotion she revealed to him did not encourage his desire to see if she was perhaps seeking a home or already part of one – instead, he considered pressing the issue with his teeth, if only to make his point more clear.
 
The old Constantine of Donnelaith – the one who would not have ravaged not only another but a she-wolf unless initiated first, was long gone, it would seem. It would seem that was enough information for the she-wolf -- his stern gaze perhaps revealed he was not up for much questioning, and as she trailed away, he followed after her at a rather uncomfortably close distance, ensuring she left fully.