The Floodlands You never go to parties.

He looked more than a little disarmed by the question. Towhee might have snickered but she watched his lips carefully, her expression serious. What if... she thought. She wasn't sure whether she should take any of Colt's words to heart, but maybe she could dig out the constructive in the criticism. As poorly as he'd approached the entire matter—by trying to attack his Alpha from behind to prove a point, smh—she could admit to herself that he'd raised some valid concerns, even if he was a cowardly asshole about it.

"But would you? Consider it?" she pressed. A train of thought had rolled right into her head and she was apparently leaping on-board and riding it through to the end of the line. "You know Colt, right?" (Fucking lol.) Aware that these two subjects didn't segue naturally, she explained, "He raised some concerns about my ability to lead. He was a total whackass"—thanks for that one, Tegan—"about it but it got me thinking..."

She paused for a long beat, letting him catch up, especially considering how flummoxed he looked. "Maybe the pack would benefit from rounding out the leadership," she thought out loud, orange eye speculative as she squinted at Quixote. There weren't many eligible candidates to begin with, however, he easily rose to the top of the list.