Big Salmon Lake Be my Yoko Ono

Bronco teased a laugh from Āzon, which at first made him think that he'd finally coaxed the male into a cursing competition. He was a bit disappointed in Āzon's response, and gave him a raised eyebrow, unimpressed with being called something as commonplace as 'little shit.' It was practically the first nickname that his own mother had given him, when he'd been too young to even know what it meant. He still didn't seem convinced to enter into an immature battle of swear words, and changed the topic, asking Bronco about the parallel scars across the bridge of his muzzle. 

"Sort of," He said, with a shrug. "Some jerk was picking on a friend of mine. So I tore him a new one." The words rolled from his tongue with passive simplicity- it was an easy fact that he would step in to defend his friends if necessary. With the air heavy with rain, it wasn't hard to notice the variety of places where Āzon himself bore scars, revealing the dark skin beneath his pale coat. "Looks like you've done some fighting yourself," He said, by means of inviting the male to trade story for story.