Sea Lion Shores comb my hair back, strike a match on a bathroom wall where your number is written

the pale wolf's emnity for the mange-ridden beast was not lost upon murgash, who deflected it brightly the way water might bounce off a duck's smooth back. sure, he was more rat than duck, but no amount of contempt could ever sink the infallible murgash.

he straighed his posture as he received the male's harsh words, his tail curling high and half-bald over his bare back. one: rude as fucking hell. two: who the flip? murgash had not expected such vitriol, and for a moment it looked as if he was rounding upon his heels to sink his teeth straight into the insolent stranger's rude-as-heck face.

but he didn't.

instead, he issued a loud guffaw and his chest crumbled with laughter. what a prick! a little insecure boy! the derision in his mirthful laughter was out full force, and he practically snorted snot-bubbles in his laughing fit. when his bellowing guffaws ceased into trailing chuckles he snorted back the last of his ropy drool and peered at the wolf, completely unphased by the diatribe: "yeech! oi'm glad we skipped ples-sentries.. oi ken tell roight away ye ain't never had eny." he sniggered unkindly, wiping a tear from his raw cheek with a broad wrist.