Hoshor Plains stick your fingers up your partner's nose

He regretted asking a question. She stuttered and stammered the entire way through her response, and he felt the heat of irritation rise in his ears. The corsair could be coldly impatient and judgemental outside of his own crew, and ruthless in his own way. But he kept his fur flat and his expression open; his satiety lending him tolerance. He would not lash her ears with cruel mocking, nor menace her with his teeth for his own amusement. He settled to his haunches, relaxed but aware.

"No," he answered. He was not one to divulge a great deal to strangers, but certainly she knew the answer anyway. His scent was distinctly his own — a strong musk laced with salt, water, and bones. "Don't need anyone, either." There was no wolf more suited to the life of a loner and traveller than he, or so he thought. He knew of none who could match his prowess at catching prey and scavenging edibles. It was for this reason he served his old crew as a long runner — a scout — because he would not starve during his task.

But," he followed up. "Perhaps I'll join up with someone."