Firefly Glen so shave your face with some mace in the dark

The swing of his muzzle in the direction of the distinct scent of another came just as the woman chuffed—his eyes meeting with stark ebony and bright cerulean. The irony of a tantalizing woman coming upon him no sooner than him swearing off his manhood this upcoming season wasn’t lost on him—the amusement something he would never share with another, like so many of his thoughts.

She held herself with a certain assertion, his ears flicking forward as simmering ember eyes studied her with blank features, spare that tell-tale quirk at the corner of his lips. “Morning,” he offered, his own form remaining tense until he knew the intentions of the stranger.