Hideaway Strath I've gotta a bone, care to pick it with me?

Kynareth hears a sharp roar of anger and when he follows it he finds his favorite black panther of a wolf, Whrist, gnawing violently at the innocent plant. He stills, wondering what the hell is going on for a moment before finally deciding to approach her.

“Whrist, darling, what did that bush ever do to you?” He hums easily, a smile on his promiscuous face. His voice so smooth just the way he knows she likes.

Even though he did tip toe closer than he was before, the Saint isn’t blind to her sour mood. Finding it safer to keep at least a meter between them, he stands and awaits her ire to be turned on him instead.