Firefly Glen The Witching Hour

Spinning, Tzila forced themselves apart. Uncomfortable for her, but likely painful for him. His mis-interpretation of her words was not taken well. Not at all. She never did handle criticism or rejection well, and now he'd learn. Blood flying from still fresh wounds, she aimed a bite at his face with much more intent behind it. "Who ever said I was interested in starting a pack, boy?"

Her silver eyes narrowed into slits, tail raised, lashing. "You misunderstood. I only suggested keeping company for the singular sake of it. Nothing more." Stiffly, she stepped forward, ears pricked as she further drove her point home. "Do you really think I am so foolish as to of ask those who are explicitly not interested as you made clear?" With her interest fading fast, she turned away to leave. "Like I already said...I don't play well with others."