Raven's Watch You slept on a feather bed, I slept on the floor.

Raleska could appreciate harboring a grudge -- she had her own, some she'd carry with her to her dark and lightless grave.  Beasts like the bear, like those who had abandoned her -- Raleska found herself studying Bridget with something akin to familiarity. They were, perhaps, not so different.

"Raleska. What did they look like?" Raleska inquired, cut short by the presence of footsteps. She froze, gums lifted and hackles flared, as she turned one ear and then the next, locating the source of sound in short order and turning her body towards it. When a heavily furred yet athletic male broke form cover, Raleska pinned him with a distrustful gaze and quiet snarl.

It took her only several seconds to read the room, and understand this was likely either Tweedle-dumb or Tweedle-dumber; Shithead or his Lackey. While she noticed the male's affectation was no different than the pitch wolf she'd met several weeks prior, everything else was different. His bearing, his way of introduction -- it screamed of overconfident male ego, and set Raleska instantly on edge.

She squared up, tail rising. Between the two of them, she'd pick the woman always -- she was fucking tired of wolves (read: MALE wolves) arrogantly strolling up to her and others to correct them, steamroll them, or otherwise fuck-and-leave-them. If he was pulling a Drageda and chasing wolves off of neutral territory, he'd earn even more than Raleska's misplaced ire -- he'd earn her vengeance, too. "This one thinks you should fuck off." Raleska mocked him and his tone bitterly, wondering what type of man it took to stroll up to two women and correct them with his tail lashing in irritation behind him. Nothing screamed uninvited houseguest to Raleska more than a man coming to spoil the party.