Wheeling Gull Isle molotov cocktails on me like accessories

it is good to meet her: lucky him. the amused smile on her face turns slightly wicked as he continues to fumble, even if his final answer is not quite as exciting as she'd hoped for. hunting rats? her perfectly-shaped nose crinkles at the offering, even more so when he reveals its original purpose. "do i look like the sort of girl who wants to take food from a nursing mother?" she demands, even as he explains there's more (and fumbles that, too). poor driftwood, not realising that reed feels protective of aralez and her litter, having bonded with coelacanth over the course of caring for fern and mur and mou. 

she sighs, dropping the pretense of superiority for a moment. "no, you should take it to seelie," she tells him, rising on her paws. "that's... a nice thing to do for her." as loathe as she is to give credit to anyone, especially this blundering fool, it's for the greater good. "in the mean time," the fearghal princess decides, "you can help me with my organizing, to make up for your faux-pass." ha! fair is fair, drifty?