Flycatcher Downs sweet little baby in a world full of pain

Not Valour? Just Serem and a girl? But that didn't add up..."Not Valour?" He repeated, asking aloud this time and tipping his head to the side, letting his cheek fur conceal a part of his face with gravity. But.. Valour had told Clay that he wasn't leading, was he lying?

Clarence went on his own spiel about scars, something about how they made a wolf appear strong. But Clay didn't really listen. He was too strung up—his head in the clouds as he thought about the agouti boy. The bright oranges of his fur, the dark eyes. His thick muscles...

He was only a boy in love, and one quick intrusive thought let to another.
And another.
And another.

It was too late for Clay to get back into the conversation by the time he noticed he had mentally checked out; And being as head strong as he was, the Easthollian didn't want to admit he hadn't a clue what had come out of the spotted wolf's mouth for past few sentences.

He just blinked and nodded, hoping that would suffice.

Until he heard the Nightwalker flirt. "What" He questioned, voice taken aback as he tried to recall what had been said. "You like the way I look? Are you honestly flirting with me right now?" Whatever good mood that had been worked up over the course of this conversation flattened, and Clay felt disgusted by the words, by the fact that this stranger sought to butter him up. "Ugh,"

The prince got up immediately, swift to send the stranger home with a glare. "Were done here, go home Clarence." He didn't necessarily mean to be so quick to snap and send the lad home, but Clay was but a prisoner to his emotions—unkept, volatile, explosive, and in that moment he saw an opportunity to flee. To hide away and recharge from this long lasting conversation, and frankly embarrassing encounter.

So he got up and lifted his chin and tail high, attempting to assert dominance while he turned to walk away.