Dawnlark Plains through gutters filled with black debris

Wowowow I thought I'd replied already, derp.

Welcoming was not a word used to describe Betelgeuse, almost as if he went out of his way to be a harrowing host, if the need ever arose. Here and now the man was an observer, and still not wholly invested in the company he kept. Whether it was this long wolf or his dear sister, Betelgeuse was of a similar mind: keep them all away for as long as possible. He was a wolf, but not a social one.

The stranger's voice lilted in a friendly manner, and Betelgeuse found this more off-putting than any aggression he may have presented. It bothered him more that this Slancio was being kind to him. What purpose could he have for that? This place was empty of everything necessary for survival, so any mindful beast would be fleeing the scene, not trying to make nice. Betelgeuse snorts softly as he pulls his head away from the stranger, and licks a line of drool off his chin before it can dribble out of his open mouth.

He continues to study the stranger, curious now but ultimately leery of him, and eventually moans: Nothing here, as if stating the obvious will alert him to the futility of pleasant conversation. He didn't have food, so Betelgeuse did not need to take it; there was no food to hunt, so Betelguese did not need to be here. He was simple-minded indeed.