Hideaway Strath that is the thing that calls to all of my kind

Roarke offers her a lofty shrug of his shoulders when she lets out a ha! at his talk of her being an imposter. It’s a bit of a stretch, admittedly, but as it’s his story he intends to stick with it, although it has long since been proved that she’s, indeed, Mallaidh. She tries to goad him by offering the alternative that there could be someone at the borders at the moment trying to get in and they weren’t there to stop them, and it is his turn to roll his eyes but grins afterwords, but gives her the benefit of doubt. Even in his effort to avoid border patrols it seems Molly had artfully manipulated him into doing it anyway. Dang it. Roarke lets out a heavy, dramatic sigh that would make any thespian jealous with it’s exaggeration. “Hey!” He barks as she takes off, claiming that the last one to the borders is a turd. He takes off after her, fairly confident that she will win as his bulk (puppy pudge) will no doubt slow him down. Roarke wasn’t built to win any races, after all, and that was extremely unfortunate because he did not want to bear the title of big turd.