Herbalists' Cache i've got a taste for blood

The returned greeting draws no response from him, but Firestorm’s weight against him prompts an immediate reaction. He tenses against the other to keep from falling to the side under his bulky frame, reaching up to nip at his shoulder; gently at first, then again, sharp this time. His teeth comb through red fur for a moment before he pulls away to speak. Will you teach me how to fight? The words are soft, just a step above a whisper, silver eyes seeking the strikingly pale gold of his companion’s.