Morningside Cuesta Was dreaming of shores that my ship would find

Eagerly, Reek followed Roslyn into the chasm where he shook his soaked pelt until he was reasonably dry. He settled to his haunches on the dry, dusty floor and yawned.  "Names are stupid," he mumbled. Despite his usual fixation and fondness of names and meaning, he wasn't particularly fond of the one he sported.  It sounded too harsh and was always difficult to explain. "You can call me whatever you want... But, I think I'll call you—"  he squinted as he tried to find some feature on her form she could use. She was attractive, well groomed despite being soaked to the bone, but no prospective names came from what he noticed. "—Fuck it, I'll just keep calling you Ears then," he continued with a chuckle.

"I think we're good here, so no objections from me." Their small shelter carried no suggestive smell, and a wolf's nose never lies.  They would be safe, but most importantly of all— dry. "So, uh— what's your reason for getting stuck in the rain?" he asked, hoping to make idle conversation.