Wapun Meadow You sleep rather soundly for a murderer.

She was cautious at his presence – her pale eyes falling upon him, and while she was a captivating sight with the bold cinnamon that masked her features and the intricate darker hues that wove along her spine, it was her eyes that were what truly captured him in that moment – pale, a stark reminder to him of Aria’s grey eyes – and yet warmer, a tinge of gold that caused the wolf to clench his jaw for a moment and consider himself. He always seemed to fall in to the role of guardsman to a pretty face – this time, he was determined not to. Constantine Mayfair no longer sat to the sidelines, waiting for his life to happen.
 
And so as she approached him gingerly, the shadowrunner stalked forward as well, his own steps holding an air of prowess and demand of attention that had not been there prior to the devastation that had struck him. Despite the unspoken insistence that she notice him now in his step, he lifted his own broad muzzle, inhaling her scent and allowing his own tail to remain neutral in a gentle sway. Circling her ever lightly, they seemed to close the distance between one another, but barely – something about her intrigued him, and he couldn’t quite place how. It was then that he took a brazen step forward, still unspeaking, as he made to close the gap further between them – his pace slow and deliberate, his muzzle reaching out to gently sweep to her cheek, taking in her scent – testing the waters of his presence.