Lost Creek Hollow crows remember human faces

the affirmation that he'd fit in well pleases law and he expresses this with gratitude in a slow wag of his tail. while fitting himself into a niche of hierarchy was easy, the truth was he wasn't exactly adaptable. he was a hunter and a mercenary — years of rigorous training couldn't be undone. law was good at what he was good at: following rules and bending them just short of breaking them. he couldn't trade habits or lethally honed skills for something more pacifist even if he tried.

i'm pretty good with kids — law replies offhandedly, largely of his own opinion. he'd been a year old ( or close to it ) when arbiter'd been born anyway and law liked to think he had a hand in raising and training her ( even if it's an overstatement ). only to stutter over his next words in a choking sort of breath as the words aspiring mercenaries and their uncle flow in the same sentence. a small, near hysterical laugh escapes law's lips before he can stop it.

their uncle? arbiter? kids?! law? an uncle?! by whom? steely gaze sharpens and then he lets out a part sigh, part laugh as he looks at terance again. are you and arbiter ...together? law asks a bit awkwardly. it should've been a line he'd drawn but part of law still saw arbiter as the cub he remembered. talk about a bomb drop. sorry, it's just — hard to imagine? strange? ...holy shit. law mutters under his breath, trying his best to let it set in and make an effort to answer what he's left unanswered in lieu of his own questions.

uh, i'd love to train them. yeah. he eventually replies. they got names yet? law asks, wondering if they'd kept with the dokuga tradition or followed some other tradition.