Firefly Glen Light Up the Night

"Yes, sleeping." Riley responded, completely missing the contextual clues that suggested this stranger was being sarcastic. He remained in his position on the ground, thick limbs with their tapering, blunt claws outstretched before him. "I sleep these days." Riley answered, again missing the subtle conversational tones that might have suggested such a question was rhetoric.

His gaze flickered to the fireflies, and then back to the beast of a man. By Riley's estimation, this wolf was no slouch -- and it occurred to him that any wolf that was wandering in such hours was often up to no good. He scanned the man's face, his body language, his posture -- adding up whatever syntax he could that might help him better read the wolf's mood. At length, he made to speak. "What do you want?" It was obvious to the boy Donovan wanted some sort of action, but unless it was spelled out (and painfully so), Riley would be unlikely to offer any sort of amusement on his own behest.