Overture Downs you always have to pretend to be nicer

The wolf looked to her. She looked back. Oh dear. Was that water in his eyes? Was he crying? Oh good heavens he was crying. Citali stiffened. She realized she'd just opened the door for him to come clean about whatever was painting his personal world in his very own shades of gray. Oh bother. She'd opened the door to be confronted with, of all things, feelings. She was doing quite a bit of that now wasn't she?

It was clear to her now that he did not speak much of the common tongue. Even when that upset, words were not quite so fragmented so it suggested to her that he did not know much of the language. She listened, looking to him as he did so (as was polite) and waited for him to finish. Her ears lifted, her nose detecting a trace of pack upon him. She didn't understand what he meant. Usually a pack was something of a family and a home. "But you're a pack wolf," she said, though it was more of a question.