Stavanger Bay O Captain my Captain

The Captain listened to her with an uncomfortable stiffness about his frame. He had never been good to chat with about difficult situations. It was thought that he lacked the ability to empathize with those who had suffered a great loss. Really, Smokestep wasn't fond of imagining the darkness that surrounded them. If such a thing were to plague the world, he would wish to be the one administering it. His jaw was clenched until she had finished and he continued to walk slowly through the sands of the bay. The marauder did not meet her gaze, but he finally sniffed and nodded his head.

“Well, ye don't think I'd be surroundin' meself wit' only lasses did ye? Gotta even things out somewhere along the line,” he finally mustered with a half shrug and a quick swish of his tail. Though he could not speak for the majority of his sex, he was often disgusted by the actions that males took to dominate a situation. He could really only imagine his sister in those moments, and it flushed him red with anger. At just over a year, Smokestep was not keen on addressing his emotions.