The Sentinels long dead rows of daffodils and marigolds

What a peculiar response, the pirate thought to himself with a short chuckle. It seemed that this brute was capable of holding himself to a bout of self depreciation. It was a good quality to have in oneself. Smokestep took the remark as a welcome to scoot forward a few feet so that he was closer to the stranger. His eyes tilted from left to right as he looked into the hole in the other male's face. It was worthy of a much better tall tale than that he did it himself, but it wasn't Kingfisher's eye, and so he had very little say over what was behind it. Still, he found the unnamed wolf's answer to hold a peculiar story behind it, if the brute was willing to share.

“Wot did ye do, matey? Don't see how ye could swing yer teeth 'round that far,” Smokestep mused and took a step back with a curling smirk on his features. Of course, the pirate was always willing to indulge the tales that others would offer. He'd been a fan of dramatic flair since he was a young pup and had often taken to those who had stories upon stories. Selfishly, it provided him with a good gauge to reference his own background on and what he could do to improve it. Granted, he wasn't so willing to mutilate his own face in hopes of conjuring a story for others, but he was still interested to know what had happened to his broad figure.

Not bothering to care whether or not his question would cause the male to feel insulted, he lowered his rear to the ground in preparation for - what he hoped to be - a great tale of adventure and daring.