“Ha,” Grimlock found it amusing, thinking of himself as any sort of role model. He had always felt like he did the Redleaf line more justice than the DiSarinno one, given that he sort of took after the ‘Mama Matriarch’ (as he liked to think of the now deceased March Owl) personality wise; at least that was what Grimlock had always fancied. Admittedly, he couldn’t claim to know either Aether or March Owl very well, knowing them mostly from the stories he heard his father and other family members tell. “Well I’ll try. I don’t think I’m the best role model you want for your kids though.” Grimlock admitted in a rare form of modesty, biting on his bottom lip sheepishly for a few moments before he was broken out of it when Junior bristled at him and, in a loud fashion that his ears was beginning to adjust to Grimlock was sure until she opened her mouth and proved him that he was wrong in that assumption, more or less let the raptor know that she wasn’t a girl. For a moment, Grimlock gave Junior a perplexed look and squinted at her, but no, she was obviously a girl. If she wasn’t she’d have the manly thing and Peregrine wouldn’t have been using ‘she’. So, the only other assumption the raptor could make was that she didn’t like him calling her ‘girly-girl’; but he wasn’t going to call her “lil’ dude”, either. Until he found some endearment that was safe to call her he supposed it would be safer just to call her “junior” and be done with it.

Her scream left Grimlock blinking rapidly at her trying to make sense of her run-on of words, for a moment watching her shriek a laugh and zip off like a mini Flash. He looked up at Peregrine for help but then glimpsed back at Junior finally having made sense of it on his own. “Hey, you’re supposed to tag me, silly,” He called after her but rose to his paws, trying to decide how he was going to let her win at the game because in reality he could probably catch her pretty quickly given how much bigger than her he was. “Man you didn’t even warn me, I’m never going to catch you.” He groaned and leapt after her little form keeping a brisk pace so he didn’t lose her and when he was close enough attempted to tap her little butt with his paw in the fashion of ‘tag’.

Junior’s shrieks were loud and piercing and despite her protests rather girly to the raptor that left his ears ringing, unused to the volume they held; though truthfully he did not think he’d ever get used to her loud shrieks. Though the enunciated the fun she was having they left him with impression that some monster out of a horror story was coming for them. “Heh,” Grimlock panted, grinning like a fool as his paw made a light tap on Junior’s hindquarters in the motion of ‘tagging’ her.

Grimlock paused to suck in a deep breath as she reeled around and he leapt to the slide, almost clumsily attempting to avoid her. He had glimpsed at her face, saw the fierce determination there to catch him and tag him back. He was almost intimidated by it as he attempted to get his footing, slipped in a mud puddle (thanks puberty, what a real pal) and collapsed to the ground with a hard grunt, blowing the breath out of his previous puffed out cheeks knowing that he was never even going to get back his footing before she could reach him.

Not only did Grimlock have to deal with the humiliation of losing his traction and unable to steady himself and splat in the mud, Peregrine made it measurably worse by encouraging Junior — who did not seem to need much of it as it was — to attack the raptor while he was down. A ‘gee thanks’ glare what shot at his uncle half heartedly but sarcastic all the same as the child wheeled around and seemed to put all her momentum into her little body as she raced to where Grimlock had fallen, trying to desperately push himself up only to fall into the mud again with a low curse. Junior was on him, then, before he could even think to react further, her teeth at his throat. There was a pause of a beat in Grimlock’s shock that he didn’t even realize she was literally biting at his throat. “Hey, hey, hey!” The words were blurting out of his mouth, reprimanding. Her hunting instincts were strong and that was great but not when it was his own throat she was chomping down on. He wasn’t prey and she needed to be able to distinguish the difference.

As the prospect Caretaker he assumed (even if it was wrongly so at that point the raptor really didn’t care) that he was in the ok to reprimand her for going for his throat. It was a kill target and this was just a game, besides, Grimlock sure as hell didn’t want to have to explain to the parents why one of the other kiddos was dead because Junior launched at their throats and did real damage. Peregrine had pulled her back, thankfully before Grimlock would have been forced too and he rose to his paws, his whole underside and parts of his face streaked with mud, his throat was itchy where she had broken skin small little trickles of blood mixing with the earthen substance that almost coated him.

“Jesus Junior,” His brow was furrowed and while he was only a little mad it was fading because she was damned cute but he also didn’t think that was a behavior Peregrine should be encouraging especially when it was on a pack mate. After all, it wasn’t generally acceptable to kill during play — or maybe that was just Grimlock’s thoughts but what did he know. “I’m not prey, ok? And for the record, I like my throat unmangled, thanks.” He took a deep breath and let it out, staring at the pair of them kind of concerned that Peregrine didn’t really seemed all that bothered by it. He plopped down on his haunches to scratch behind his ear, spraying it with mud too. “I think we should take her hunting so she can tell the difference between prey and not-prey.” The teen grumbled as a suggestion but otherwise had all but brushed the incident off. Now, he knew to keep his throat protected from her the next time. Apparently, Caretaking was a lot of trial and error.

It was only that after Grimlock’s heart beat began to gradually slow back to a less frantic, adrenaline laced pulse that he shook it off as what it was: an accident. There had been a time when he had been just like Junior — might have even still been like Junior, unaware of the truth strength of his body — and to hold against it her with a personal vendetta would have been utterly stupid. Peregrine addressed him with concern of which relieved the raptor a good bit. “I’m good,” His pulse was still a little loud in his ears, as he adrenaline began to fade out of his blood stream. In hindsight he was just really glad he hadn’t snarled or worse yet attacked her in self defense; that the stupor of his shock had been too great for any sort of life preserving instincts had kicked in (not that he thought that his life had been in severe danger). The situation could have been a hell of a lot worse if he would have retaliated because while he was half sure she couldn’t do life threatening damage to him (yet) he could have certainly done significant damage to her. “Nah, it’s nothin’ really,” Grimlock attempted to brush off his uncle trying to act like the touch guy though he had been feverishly concerned about it in the aftermath of her rough housing.

Grimlock watched as Junior, under Peregrine’s scolding and sternness flopped to her side, and then exposed her belly, muttering an apology. “It’s ok Junior, I’m not mad,” He assured her, not wanting her to think that he held it against her or anything, or that it would stop him from playing with her or ‘sitting her anything like that. Grimlock didn’t have the vendetta it took to hold grudges. He pretended too but he didn’t really; and it wasn’t like he was going to pretend to hold a grudge over Junior. She was just a little girl. “You just have to learn to be careful and that you only go for the throat if you’re hunting. Not playing.” He finished, offering Peregrine a toothy grin, a little late, for the semi-praise for the idea to take Junior hunting where she could burn out some of her …ferociousness. Or whatever it was she had. She rebounded with impressive timing prancing over to him and touching her nose against his neck. “’Course I want to play,” He feigned a mock hurt voice as if the thought that he didn’t want to play insulted him. “What’s next?” He asked her wondering if she was working off some sort of agenda for her favorite games or just wanted to play whatever popped into her head at the time.

Junior seemed to have grasped what Grimlock and Peregrine had both told her, though Grimlock was a little suspicious of the impish glint in her eyes. The sheer mischievousness of it made the raptor suspicious all the same but he let it go with a roll of his shoulders, splashed with mud — there was no doubt he would need a serious bath after this. Junior seemed to be giving his question some thought, of which clued Grimlock into an answer for his previous, absentminded mental question: she was just going with what sounded good. When the child finally responded with what she wanted to play next, Grimlock visibly hesitated unable to determine was ‘fesh’ was thinking it was some kind of butchering of ‘fish’ and then wondered how one played ‘fish’ and what kind of game it was. A moment later she explained, whether because she noticed his trepidation or simply because she thought she needed too (it didn’t matter to Grimlock who was relieved that he did, in fact, know which game she gave mention to) it sunk into the raptor’s mind what ‘fesh’ meant.

Junior was saying fetch.

“Alright,” The raptor drew glimpsing around him for a stick — something that was small enough for her to carry but that was sturdy enough that it wouldn’t snap beneath her jaws from biting too hard on it (which he figured she had a tendency to do from experience) and wouldn’t break when he threw it and it hit the ground. When he found one he drew it gently in his muzzle, testing for a moment, “Ready?” He asked Junior, the word muffled around the obstruction in his mouth before he flung his head and the stick went sailing through the air to land a little bit away for her to go after and bring back to him.

Grimlock was impressed with the girl’s zeal, though it came as no real surprise because she was a puppy, and pups were full of unspent, burning energy. He still retained much of it himself though it was a little more focused, the older he got, he found. She screamed, quite literally at the top of her lungs, for Grimlock to throw the stick he’d found and then raced after it once it went sailing through the air. There was a sharp crack as the stick split under her weight when she pounced upon it and she returned with the larger half of it and dropped it at his paws. He glimpsed down at it, wet with saliva and blood and he peered at Junior, concerned and then looked to Peregrine, hesitant. “It has blood on it,” The claim proven when some of her pink spittle clashed against the white of his chest. “You’re bleeding Junior.” The game was on pause until Grimlock knew whether Peregrine thought it was something to be concerned about or not.

In a way, he couldn’t blame Junior’s will to ignore it and keep playing — he would have done the same thing if their situations were reversed. The difference was, as Grimlock saw it, that he could tell the difference between serious and not serious and considering she was still little he didn’t exactly trust her judgment; so he turned to her father and his uncle to see what he thought ignoring Junior’s demand for the time being.

Sheepishly Grimlock shuffled his mud painted paws in the dirt, avoiding looking at Peregrine when his uncle confirmed that it appeared that both Junior and him had a penchant for making one another bleed. There was a moment, when Peregrine spoke grimly after peering in the girl’s mouth Grimlock felt his heart skip a beat and then accelerate rapidly within it’s prison of flesh and bone, pupils blowing wide in his irises as he steeled himself for bad news. A second later he confirmed that she would live and then cracked a grin. Grimlock’s ear twitched, brows furrowing in confusion having expected there to be some kind of torrent of blood before he sighed in relief, shoulders sagging as the tension released from them. He was nervous because he really didn’t want to hurt Junior and because he was new to the caretaker thing and really, really didn’t want to mess up. In no time, what literally felt like a second after Peregrine had vacated their space Junior was back on her feet, demanding that he toss the stick for her to fetch again. The raptor bent his head, lips parting as he grasped the stick, wet with Junior’s blood and saliva, now mixed with his own in his grip and tossed it once more for the girl with a whip of his head.