Dragoncrest Cliffs i could base my whole existence on the cherry-strands of your gold hair

lollllll heavens to betsy

He met her scathing command with a slick rejoinder of wit, but like Tachyon, Lusca was not accoutered with an abundance of witticisms, so she was visibly frustrated with herself for having set him up for his quip and then not having a withering response prepared. 

She stared at him with half-lidded eyes, countenance destitute of all emotion. "Wow." She deadpanned. "Not on the menu pal." The wastrel responded coolly, walking away from him once again. "Where going?" "Away. I don't like it here." An apprehensive frown limned her lips while her eyes flitted nervously amongst the raucous shoreline. 

Gandering at Tachyon, the female wondered if maybe he had a case of the simples, but was not entirely dreading his presence for the time being. Like most dispersal wolves, without a pack, Lusca had all of the companionship impulses and patterns suddenly looking for a place to land, and Tachyon wasn't an entirely lousy option for an amigo.