Redhawk Caldera What do you call a French dog that loves potatoes?

Oh, sure. Fennec had been hoping Towhee might need a break and give her a chance to hang out with the kids, who would ask zero questions, but no dice. She'd left Bronco reluctantly but prepared to take a little time to herself (and allow the poor guy some rest). Hanging out with Towhee wasn't any different except for the part where her mom actually wanted to know what she'd been up to lately.

Uhh, well, Bronco's back? I figured we could use the help, and that it wouldn't be a problem. Not complete bullshit, but it hadn't even crossed her mind until right now that she'd technically accepted Bronco without her mom's okay. As if she didn't have the right, she thought. Her appetite lately seemed to have come accompanied by a new and surprisingly intense haughtiness.

Thankfully she knew better than to mouth off like that to her mom, even with the mess hormones had her in lately. Not much beyond that. I've just been busy with, y'know, herbs and shit. That... that was complete bullshit.