Firefly Glen You belong somewhere you can feel free

It was hard for him not to take her joke just a little bit personally- as he'd had to tell himself that Fennec might possibly not see it as being as beautiful and well-crafted as it was simply because she couldn't see it...But that didn't mean she deserved only drab, ugly things. No, he wanted her to be the envy of all others who looked upon her, so long as they didn't look upon her enviously too long. He'd found something he believed was worthy of her, and had spent days tracking down the one particular fox, baiting it to make sure it had developed a schedule he could predict until he'd been able to ambush it. He didn't expect to see another like it for a long time. 

He did chuckle, though, and he nudged the pouch so that it was slightly open, with the carrying straps- the parts Fennec would hold in her mouth- off to the side. She nosed at it, and he allowed her a moment to try and sort it out on her own. "It's a carrying pouch," He said. "For, y'know, carrying things like herbs...And first-born babies," He said, with a smile. "It's foxpelt," Though he was sure she could tell that by the smell, "But it's...It's from a kind of, rare-looking fox. It's all black, an' has some little silver flecks through it. Nobody else will ever have anything like this." He said. "And it's uh, it's for you."