Sun Mote Copse Don't be shy, mortal man.

When she finally relented and gave him space, Reyes' breathing was ragged and a line of spittle connected his chin to the grass. He was shaking from shoulders to hocks as he got to his feet, grass and frazzled bits of forest debris messing his coat. He staggered up and away from Niamh with his tail practically curled to his belly; she had wanted submission, and that's all he exuded now.

Between frantic breaths he listlessly sought an escape route with his eyes, and murmured tersely back at her: What part of I have to meet someone gave that impression. Goddamn -- fuckin' -- crazy ass... huff, puff, glare, except he couldn't look at her at all. Embarrassment flooded through him as he reached a plateau of calm, fragile as it felt, and he wheeled his hips away so he could face her - head low.

Don't - just.. Stay away from me. He flashed his teeth in a meek grimace of warning to emphasize his point, sides heaving still, and backed up between the trees so he could flee among their dark corners.