Hoshor Plains everyone's tea and the receipts

“Ah.” He hums in acknowledgment to the statement of bad luck. “Why’s that? You seem normal so far, but not everything’s true that meets the eye, huh?”

Then he nods calmly at his next words. “It is. I’ve worked hard on my pack. Would die for them even.” He can see that the smile is forced. Unlike Donovan’s which tends to always reach his eyes, but they usually have a little bit of mischief swirled into them. Are there more of your kind? Yes actually. He thinks, mind drifting to Renard — Dove. They have quite a few halfbreeds there. “Yes there are more like me. Well, moderately like me.” He muses.