Firefly Glen crashing out into the noise

sorry for the wait & crappy quality of this post. T-T

The stranger is perceptive and Drogon’s gaze is unwavering as he stands in silence as he lets the assumption that he is from the pack in the west hang in the air between them. “Yes,” He eventually responds with a twitch of his lips and a flick of an ear. The assumption had already been made and there was no sense in lying when Drogon felt that he would be caught in it. Whether or not the coywolf before him would be trouble in the future was yet unforetold and regardless Drogon does not think that one lone creature could realistically stand against the might of Moonspear and survive; besides Moonspear’s scent was all over him. If the man before him was ever out that way it would not be too hard to discern which pack that Drogon belonged to though the interest in it sets the Ansbjørn slightly on edge but the master of masks hides it well. “Drogon.” He offers the other male simply. “Yours?” He inquires expectantly in return.