Black Morass no end in sight

The man riled.

Baudelaire found static in his veins at the sight. It was not aggression, but it was a boldness. A move meant to engage with one another. Perhaps the agemate had expected the giant to respond with a clash of bodies.

Instead, Baudelaire dropped into a brief bow. His tail also arched, a half moon banner over his spine. A warm rumble deep in his throat.