Golden Glade but steady, the rights and the wrongs

He is large, almost intimidating in the stoic way he carries himself.  She bristles involuntarily as his pale eyes rake over the curves of her body, and she adjusts herself to disguise them.  She is not ashamed of her figure but it is not something she wishes to draw attention to, something that was already hard enough with the vibrant hue of her pelt.

He greets her stiff with casual words, and she lets out a metered breath before she finally replies, Hey.