Swiftcurrent Creek the pointy end

"No. Not every girl I meet," Rickon drawled behind a lopsided grin, giving her a playful bump with his shoulder. "Jus' the pretty ones, with the pale fur and the super orange-y eyes," he amended, then added belatedly: "oh! An' they gotta be from Argent Creek, too, y'know? And those are just the basic things. She's gotta know about dragons, among other things... So as you can see, I got some pretty high standards! I'm a very picky fella when it comes to sweet-talkin'," he winked. Mostly a bunch of charming lies, but for her, he could almost imagine himself that what he said was true. He was mainly just glad he could distract her for a time from the troubles yawning ahead of them.

Though his eyes were often on her, he never forgot to surreptitiously scan around them, wanting to remain observant without reminding October too deeply of what they were doing. The longer he could keep her out of the dire reality that was their situation, the better.

She asked what kind of story he wanted to hear, and he glanced upward in thought. "Hm," he noised pensively. "Well... I like hearin' 'bout damsels in distress," the Hollow wolf pressed, unwittingly choosing a topic that most closely correlated to his desire to be some sort of hero. "Got any heroic tales up there?" he asked, indicating her head with a soft, nip to the one of her ears perked closest to him.