Sun Mote Copse Candy-colored fingers and schadenfreude eyes

It felt weird after-the-fact, voicing all of this in the open. Back in Tortuga it was easier to bottle things up. Stowed the feelings, get back to work, be a man about it all. Reyes wasn't worried about inciting Niamh's rage or anything - he was still thoroughly convinced he could take her on despite the gap in age and experience between them - but he didn't want to be a complaining pile of shit either. He was above that, usually. He was almost an adult and he knew better than to bitch and moan about problems he could fix with enough force - alas, here he was, being a little bitch anyway.

The other wolf listened and then piped up with some questions, showing real concern over Reyes when they'd only just met. It threw him for a loop at first. He bristled and stopped his pacing, levelling a wary look upon Eljay for a moment; his ears twisted to catch the commentary on Niamh, which only made him roll his eyes.

Yeah of course you'd defend her, she's your superior. He grumbled.

Did.. Why did you chew all that grass? The accidental therapist asked next, and Reyes noticed the way the man's eyes trailed along the gully he'd cut in to the dirt. Reyes huffed, lifting a paw and looking at the mud streaking up his limbs, the nests of torn grass scattered across everything, and gave a shrug.

Heartburn, I guess. I get mad and my stomach gets upset. Someone showed me once that chewin' grass can make it a little better. Just.. Habit now, rr'something. The redirect focused his mind a little, gave Reyes a momentary pause as he recited an explanation. 

Brusque. Pfft. She's a terror, that'un. Reyes drawled in a more affable tone, slanting a look at Eljay that was still moderately suspicious but a little less agitated, overall. She comes at me again though -- she'll be sorry. There wasn't much power behind the statement despite the sentiment it carried.