Otatso Wetlands Frog hunting.

"Hey, no one said you had t'be modest about it," he smiled, though avoided anything extra in case it seemed like he was flirting. Boone was a self-conscious canine and respectful of another man's claim; though he could see himself being incredibly fond of Scarlett, he could not find it within himself to act like it. This may not have been entirely due to respect either, because Boone had only courted one female in his entire life, and he suppose he hadn't done that very well as she had chosen another wolf in the end.

He was not eager to repeat the process, at any rate.

He nodded knowingly at her concern, but didn't seem to share her sentiment on the subject. "What's not to like about bein' family with you?" That, he felt, was overstepping and the expression that followed, although friendly, was slightly more sheepish than anything else. "I mean, o'course, that you'll do great, Miss Scarlett. No need to fret," he clarified, clearing his throat afterwards.

A pregnant pause happened between them, not the uncomfortable kind, and then she asked him in a hushed voice if he was lonely. Boone considered the question for a moment—he looked at her thoughtfully, and then turned his head towards the horizon. "Not most days. I try not to be, an' I don't think on it too much..." He took a long breath, because now he had been forced to think about it at Scarlett's mention of it.

Of course the lone ranger life was lonely, but not many had proved very friendly towards his blood in the past, and he had avoided forming bonds with anyone because he felt like a burden or as if he weren't an actual wolf. "Companions don't come easy 'round me. They say I look too much like a dog, even if y'can't tell by the muddy scent of my blood. I cause trouble where I go—an' not because I'm mean or nothin'. It's just who I was born to be... A walkin' talkin' target."

He laughed, to show his good nature, but it wasn't really a joke to him.