Heron Lake Plateau Troy, this is Midsomer

So from scruffy and eternally a little unkempt but not too bad to this.  If wolves went to the groomer, he'd certainly need a trip.  Raven, on the other hand was perfect.  He hadn't thought about it -- his brain had autofilled a certain degree of unkempt features to everyone he came across.  But now, he actually got a good look at her.  How'd she manage that?  Was she so bewitching right now for more supernatural reasons, also explaining her appearance?  Probably not, but it sounded good right about now.

But at his troubles? Of course she laughed.  For a moment his heart jumped to his throat, thinking it was all over.  But once he actually listened it was obvious he shouldn't have worried.  His forced smile turned to a much more natural (and devious) smirk as Quixote took a step forward.  C'mere, you can try it out too, if you'd like.  He took a playful swing at her with a messy paw, missing on purpose just in case she didn't want to actually join him in the muck.  It'd be more fun to carry on with it as a threat anyway.

This whole thing was different.  When he was closer to Titmouse's age he'd fooled around with some of the youths who'd join his birth pack before they realized it was a hellhole and bailed ASAP.  That was before he realized that was probably on the list of Things That Might Get You Killed back there. Back then it had been for what?  Convenience?  Probably just a very good distraction from how screwed up things were at the time.  But what was all this?  He was rarely playful.  Wait.  Why was he even thinking about this right now? Screw you, brain, go away!