Duck Lake dirty little secret

Young and beautiful and fucked up, he smiles. Her attention, rapt and charming, tickled at his confidence. It stretches and opens up. His smile is nothing but a baring of teeth. No connotation or denotation to it.
The symmetrical face, the bright features— simple biology tells him that she is beautiful. She slides into some golden ratio, snug and perfect, and the fur on her stomach is impossibly white. He thinks, vaguely, how soft it would be. Where do you come from? A single eyebrow arches neatly.
Then, laughing, self-deprecating, he adds, My name is Fields. It's bold of him. He had never been good with people, even himself. But Ursus, Evien, and now this stranger...he was getting used to the heat of the spotlight on the back of his neck. If his brother were to find him now, perhaps he wouldn't even be able to recognise him, this blooming version of himself. A poisonous flower was still a flower.