Wheeling Gull Isle stood on my roof and tried to see you forgetting about me

flame-furred and built like a warrior. time has softened his first impression of the man's impact on him, and he'd forgotten how impressive aiolos is in presence alone, how the sight of the russet wolf leaves him blank and speechless for a few moments. but he remembers now. he freezes in the water, staring, clearly dazzled by the sight of the leader. it takes him a few moments to snap out of it.
he offers a shy smile of his own, making his way toward where aiolos has settled. i am. thank you, he says, trying to ignore the way his heart starts to race as he gets closer. he feels strange — all dizzy and faint and frail, skin abuzz with the need to be touched. he halts further off from the leader than he wants to be, not trusting himself. there's a large part of him that doubts aiolos would take kindly to him expressing such attraction. men like him only take compliments from women, in jaime's experience. soft, pretty, lucky women. he suddenly wishes, quite fiercely, that he could be like them — not even for the sake of having aiolos, but simply to be... that. the feeling is startling, and too complex to think about right now, so he pushes it away. productive, jaime, be productive and useful, he tells himself. i'm well enough to start helping the pack now, i think. where are um... the best fishing spots here? he's never fished on an island before.