well i grew up quick and i grew up mean

Aesop snorted, letting out a puff of air.  "Don't sweat it," he said easily, shrugging in nonchalance.  "Color me impressed, really.  I'm only one lesson in, and shit's hard.  Props to you."  He tipped his nose at her, taking the opportunity to really study her.  She looked young, fresh.  A few scars marred her face, small, pink nicks that were only evident at this proximity.  He realized just how old he was in Wilds filled with youthful wolves.

"You'll have to fight me for it," he joked, tail whipping playfully behind him.  "Never saw it before I got here, but the sea's fuckin' sweet."  He winced at the uncomfortable question, feeling the second hand-embarrassment for her.  "Fuck it, you're fine," Aesop told her, shrugging off any unpleasantness easily.  "I ain't much, anyway.  Just a wanderer and an old man.  Settled down here a few months ago, and here I've stayed."  He nudged her shoulder with his own, taking a risk that she wasn't uncomfortable with physical contact.  "You got a story for me?  Doesn't have to be the real one."