Hideaway Strath [m] i'm spiraling, i'm sinking down

The Grandmaster can tell that his own reaction gained an odd one from the smaller. He smirks back at him for that. Perhaps he expected to be reprimanded, that’s not the case with Kyn. He doesn’t do that unless it’s serious disrespect and even then he’s soft with his pack. A simple snapping of teeth and lying the other on their back would do. Usually even his Golden eyes stare is enough to allow them to know they’ve caught his ire. Soon, Charles would understand that Kynareth desires to be a friend — a trustworthy one — as well as a leader. How would he expect his pack to come to him with their problems if they didn’t trust him not to try and kill them every time they did. It’s a trait his father didn’t get when he led the Saints. 

Well, I am full of charm, more handsome than I know what to do with, and very strong. At these words, Kyn doesn’t miss the sarcasm in them. This man has no confidence and Kynareth doesn’t know why. He wants to break him of that. Wants to help him find real confidence in himself and find ways to boast about it just like his Grandmaster. He listens to his sarcasm. Then he listens as he becomes a bit more serious and mentions his old homeland. Easthollow. He grins for a whole other reason then. 

Still, Kyn quirks a brow at him and smirks horribly. If allowed, he’d move to bump Charles’ shoulder with the massive crown of his head lightly. Offering up a flirty, almost dirty look back. “I can see that, sweetheart, no need to make me look bad.” He purrs then, a humorous, shit-eating grin on his handsome face.

Then he moves on to Easthollow, a more intense, possibly malicious grin coming over his face. “I know of Easthollow. I fought against them with Ursus once.” He hums casually. He remembers when he’d sunk his teeth into those wolves too. It was fun.