Cerulean Cape thunderclap

Lol coonzilla

Raptor, truthfully, did not know what to make of the wolf before him. His first instinct (read: his incredible distrust) was to suspect the male of fabricating a ruse and trying to beguile him into letting his guard down. But Raptor fancied himself shrewd. He believed he was sharp enough to play the game and retain ownership of the bloated seal, and he also believed that his wind-and-wave piercing whistle had found it's way to Smoke and or Sandpiper, and that they would be around for backup eventually.

So he swaggered forward with a high head and a cocky smirk. "Aye, I might be able to t'help a lad out." He let his long tongue loll from his slackened jaw. It was of such a length that he could have swung it over the bridge of his snout and licked the opposite canine with it. Or cleansed his eyeball like a gecko. It was a peculiar deformity that he knew unsettled those of kinder upbringings. He was not sure if that description fit the pale wolf, but it was an effortless enough gamble to take.

If the long tongue was not enough, Raptor paired it with a few theatrical kissing noises lobbed from puckered lips as he advanced. Surely, one or both displays would strike a nerve.