Redhawk Caldera [joining] smoke and mirrors

A few days wouldn't kill an otherwise healthy individual, though Peregrine knew Pan must be pretty ravenous by now. He bobbed his head, lapsing into silence for a few steps before flicking an ear and demanding (albeit amiably), "So... tell me about yourself, Pan. Were you born into the clan of sea witches?" He couldn't imagine any wolf in his right mind would choose that lifestyle, so it only made sense that Pantaleimon had been born and raised in the culture. "What are your interests, aside from hunting? I'm not talking about just skills, either, but your passions and hobbies."

As the word hobbies left his lips, the Master Gamekeeper arrived at the foot of the caldera. Among the rocks were hidden many small stashes. He dipped into one now, pulling loose a stiff squirrel carcass. He spun, dropping it a bit unceremoniously at Pan's feet. When he lifted his head, his dark snout brushed the subordinate's shoulder. Even Peregrine himself couldn't have said whether or not it was an accident, though he felt a slight rush of heat. He withdrew, wondering at the effect this strange individual was having upon him.

While he silently awaited Pan's answers, he also mused about it. It occurred to him rather suddenly that there was something effeminate about his newest recruit. Perhaps that was what was striking him? He couldn't help continuing to compare Pan to his former and current interests, who were both quite masculine. Really, Pan couldn't have been more different from Lasher or Luke. But, then, did Peregrine have a type, when it came to men or women? Looking back over his handful of lovers, they were quite varied, though they all shared one thing in common: a certain fire, a burning self-confidence.

Where did Pan fit into that? He was docile and pliant, like a cold splash of water in contrast, a simile which caused Peregrine's lips to twitch. That was fitting, considering his origins.