Frostfire Ridge the blood that runs through my veins is ichor not iron

'Oops, I did it again,' was the first thought he had as the growl began looming over the not-so-nice-now spot between the two. She was gorgeous, in a terrifying way. and well, if he were into her type, she's be great when it came to snapping his spine in 15 different vertebrae inclines. Hottie indeed. Just a wee bit -too- hot for the chill dude, who was now trying to figure out a not-Ash translation.

"Uh, it's a slightly semi-pos, semi-neutral nickname for females who I come across and greet."

That's a good english, ya?
Well, depends.
On wha?
Whether she gets crackin' on that spine snappin'.
Oh...

With an appeasing demeanor, the sun pelted healer swished his tail in a friendly manner, hoping to ward of an attack through sheer please-dont-snap-my-life-cord body language.
 
"I didn't mean to sink ya ship, doll, I got no blues in apologizin'.'

Would he have to translate that too? This was gonna be a long one. Or a short one, depending on who won the race with her temper, first. Trying to ease the broiling point, the verde gemed man offered his name.

"My tags Ashton, or just dub me Ash. whichever tastes better on ya tongue."