Silvertip Mountain this i know: the snow won't fall on me

Phocion's arrival didn't startle him; it was rather welcome, actually. He accepted the touch enthusiastically, turning to lick his friend's face several times once he had pulled away. Good, The Mayfair chirped softly, pressing his flank against the priest's and laying his tail over the other's back. You? Seeing the rain bother him, he licked a few more times at his face, this time to clear the droplets from his fur. Though, he knew they'd come back— it was partially an excuse.
He was quiet for a few more moments, studying his friend with an expression that spoke clearly of his thoughts: he had something to say. Something to ask, actually. Cortland averted his gaze for a beat, suddenly shy. He wasn't certain if he could ask— or how Phocion would take the question. Did he want the answer, truly? Could his friend even provide it?
He debated agonizingly for another minute before he finally spoke. Phocion...w-whhhhy did... did En-gel wa-ant to— He swallowed, hating the way the words sounded coming from his mouth and hating that he needed to ask this. He continued far more slowly: Have... s-ssex... with... me? I don't— un-understand. It was something he had wondered about relentlessly— as far as he knew, there had to be some sort of reason, right? With Ava it had been the scent, but with Engel... that was a mystery. He hadn't asked for it, so why had it come up? It did not yet occur to him that some people just went seeking such things from strangers; that was an odd concept to him.