Redhawk Caldera The lost boys

He smirked at his son's crass language, happy that Nightjar took after him that way. It reminded him of bantering with Atticus back in the day. They would make dick jokes all the live long day. They would have done the same with Crete too, but of course he had been a mute. Strangely, thinking of both his long-lost brothers did not awaken much emotion in Peregrine. He felt a faint twinge, a bit of warmth. That was all.

"Maybe. Don't stick it in one without her express permission, NJ," the father said a bit more sternly before lightening his tone again. "But if she's down—and not in heat and not, like, a child—then... go for it." It was interesting but certainly not unexpected that Nightjar only mentioned women. Who and how many he slept with was his business alone, however, so his father didn't say anything about it.

"Uhh," he said laughingly when Nightjar tried to coax his dong into showing itself. "It only happens when you're aroused." And though he had discussed some of the basics to his son when he was younger, Peregrine went over the particular mechanics now to fill in the blanks the kid's otherwise killer instincts hadn't filled.