Firefly Glen It gets so sticky down here

It would brighten Jackalope's outlook on the pack's formation considerably to see Leta approaching him. A stranger, and he was thankful for that; as his first impressions with most often left him in an unfavourable position in a second meeting. His ears flicked forward as he watched her approach across the grassy glen, her eyes the bright hazel of autumn grasses and her pelt the shade of fallen leaves on a moonless night. She cut a fine figure, and brought with her the faint scent of wild flowers. An enchanting figure which caused Jackalope's form to relax slightly, as he went from being stiff and begrudging to suddenly being interested in making himself a memorable presence. 

His demeanour shifted when she spoke, and she seemed somewhat formal- so he made note of that. Perhaps he couldn't be too forward, but it was incredibly difficult for him to refrain from his natural habits. He was flattered that she might think of his company being a pleasure- but didn't expect that to last terribly long. He still had quite a record for being chased away from pack borders. "Oh, the pleasure's mine," He said. "I came here to hunt, though; as I usually do. Nice, open, flat grounds, perfect for a solo hunt. But, it seems," Drawing in a reluctant breath, as though about to deliver some sad news, "That's no longer an option." He said. He smiled. "The view has improved, at least," He hummed, his flat grey gaze appreciating the woman who stood before him.