Sawtooth Spire into a fly

there was no possibility that buffalo recognized the voice that sounded over him. and yet he did.
the man lifted his muzzle, then raised up his body until he was seated before the woman. a wry grin touched the cold line of his lips — he remembered the last times they had shared, and the first. "don't think i ever got your name," he drawled — if he had, it was lost in the fractured halls of his swiss-cheese mind, and whatever. he'd recognized her and that was enough for buffalo.
her question — he hummed and rolled his eyes dramatically. "i might." tongue dabbed at the torn spot on his lip; buffalo winced with an amused snort at his own self-destruction. he grinned at the pale woman; they were well-met in their careworn appearances, but age had not dulled whatever amiability had arisen between them years ago. 
and so buffalo spread his forelegs, thrusting his pelvis obscenely toward the ground. "your prize awaits, beautiful," he cackled good-naturedly. after all, she hadn't liked his nuts last time; he hoped this would annoy her more than that had. the fact she'd spurned him with a biting assessment of his jewels did not dissuade buffalo.