Bearclaw Valley raspberry cigars

the bend of ash's leg caught merrick's eye. he did not immediately answer, for his stare was now traveling over her with a more than cursory expression. the bearwolf would never refer to himself as a widower, but others would; the side effect of this was that he no longer knew when others took interest in him.
"i say every word that comes into my mind." merrick smirked.
there was something in the cast of her own gaze that had stopped the bruin-witch for a moment. he chuckled darkly. 
"are you asking me to tell you who to fuck, ash?"
his tongue slid along his tattered lips. there was much to be said for directness.
his blackbird ruffled her feathers alongside him, and out of his peripherals merrick caught the blaze of her indigo eyes.
but his own cyclop's-stare was on the skeptic, and it was his own turn to dare her.