Sun Mote Copse Well I bet my soul on a six string gamble

Colt, for some reason, was definitely hung up on the moment.  He didn't know why the place, the time, and the conversation mattered so much, but it was probably in part because he was used to saying things that didn't mean much.  If he was going to say something that did, it needed to resonate.  Something had to set it apart in his mind.  Translate - he would have been one of those brides who turns that shit down if it's done on the couch in a casual conversation.

I like the sound of them already.  Say what you will about asses, but we get shit done.  Familiar joking territory - her sense of humor being back in force was one of the best things he'd found since their relocation here.

I'm going to have to take a trip or something.  Because no way if I'm around I'm going to be able to keep myself away from you either.  That would take a kind of willpower he knew damn well, from experience, he didn't possess.  But no way I'll be able to just leave either.  Fuck.  He wasn't about to run off and let anyone else in the pack mess with her around that time either.  No way jose.

If we fuck up - literally, he added, with a bit of a grin, before getting more serious again, There is the Caldera.  We could ask Quixote.  Ok now.  This he definitely said hesitantly, because he had zero clue how she would take it.  He'd asked her to leave, potentially screwed up whatever she had with Towhee, and now was offering to go back.  But he could explain, if she needed it.  He didn't hate making the comment, despite not really wanting to leave here.