Hushed Willows furnace

Banner's place was empty of it's owner Buchanan realized as he neared it. Though Banner's scent was prevalent to this particular area the scents were not fresh enough to signal to the assassin that she was in residence or had been for hours. He assumed then that she was tending to pressing leadership duties, unaware that she had been sleeping in. Buchanan was an early riser and very rarely slept in what could be described as “soundly”. Conditioned courtesy of The Officer who had wanted his young prodigy to rise quickly in case he was needed to protect the elder. It was militaristic, in ways: noises were enough to rouse him from sleep, triggering his fight or flight instinct with an acute sharpness. Thus, when the dark wraith had made his way out of The Crook plenty of the Marauder's had been sleeping still.

He padded closer to her tree, affirming what he had already known to be true (just to be sure) before he sat down upon his haunches and with a gentleness was a juxtapose to the tally mark akin scars on his shoulder that relayed his (still inaccurate) kill count he laid the fragile and small songbird's corpse at his large paws: a eye catching jewel against the dark mahogany of his fur before he lowered himself to the ground into a sphinx like position, prepared to wait for Banner, confident that she would make a trip to her tree at some point through out the day. He considered calling for her but in the end decided not to because she was the Beta now and she had priorities that needed attended to, and the matter was not urgent. He and it could wait.

It wasn't too long of a wait, however, when the sound of approaching footfalls caught the assassin's attention. His ears perked atop his skull. His mercurial gaze studied what he could see through the willows, hoping that it was Banner. The Beta in question came into his view. For a moment he struggled to swallow around the lump that was his breath where it had caught in his throat, but he rose as she drew nearer and inhaled deeply greeting her softly with, “Banner,” dipping his head low in both acknowledgment and in submission. “I brought you that pevchaya I promised you.” He slipped in the Russian knowingly this time, a tiny little grin tugging at the edges of his lips. Granted, presenting her with the songbird was not his sole reason for seeking her out, but he'd been trying to give her the space she wanted and/or needed following the events of their night patrol; but keeping to his promises to her kept him busy besides aiding in the search parties for their missing members. Hunting birds for Banner's feather collection was for himself as much as it was for her and the assassin did not mind the “alone” time that often accompanied the hunts.

Buchanan leaned down and nosed the cerulean warbler's corpse towards her, mindful of it's delicacy.