Whitefish River le sigh

Syrma bobbed her head for a nod first (because yes literally the worst, since puppies were already a bad butt itch of their own) and then again harder, with a more thoughtful look on once more (because yeah... though loathe to think of the possibility, if that happened, she probably wouldn't be happy with Spica--which would be a whole separate set of bad to add to it). All good reasons to keep away from such a notion, and ones she kept close to her heart--from butt itchies to blindness, all of it was just salt in a wound really.

Oh same here. I'll at least let you know if I even start thinking stupid stuff like that, she scoffed, letting it shape into a laugh at the end as well. It would be well before the fact, certainly, though picturing herself succumbing to such right now was a pretty funny joke too. Syrma was too far away from any real need or interest in the matter, and after all this complication with the situation, it was not easy to envision herself wanting that. For real though, no being eaten alive by little needy slugs like that AND the  itchy butt to go with it, thank you VERY much, she concluded after one last good snicker, though there was that lingering ire in her statement. At least with her sister she could laugh it off.

Anyway.. do y'wanna go on a walk with me? See what we can find that's not stupid smelly pup-this-and-pup-that garbage, she offered with a soft nudge of her snout to her twin's shoulder before she pointed it down the riverway in suggestion. Syrma was fancying a change of pace away from all the stuff that had made them feel badly lately. Really, she had been wanting to explore more (and further) in general, and this whole mess just gave her good cause to expedite that.