Swiftcurrent Creek Spent a few years drowning in vodka

Though he was not accustomed to the ways of pack life, Soltero was not such a fool to ignore the regal way in which the stranger approached him - he held himself in such a way that the smoky traveller would not ignore - this man, whoever he was, held a rank of significance. The alpha male, perhaps. Lucid eyes of a grassy green flickered like a candle flame to watch as the man strolled closer, and closer still, until the distance between them was closed enough for a conversation to travel the air. 

The Valento was not much for talking, in all truth, but he knew that to simply ignore this wolf, draped in a coat of charcoal, was rude and his mother would certainly never have approved. He doubted the other residents of this territory would, either. Soltero gave a low chuff in response, a greeting of his own. It lacked great enthusiasm, but was polite enough. "Thank you." A voice deep like rolling waves slipped from betwixt his blackened lips, ears tipping toward Constantine; he had to be cautious of his own actions, for upsetting an alpha or their pack was hardly on his bucket list. "My name is Soltero. Pleasure to meet you."