Rosewater Oasis I speak in plastic

He responded very little when Widower approached, welcoming her without ceremony, though when her pace matched his, he turned to regard her with soft eyes. It surprised him still that she had materialized out of nowhere as if manifested by his desires. Perhaps the Oasis could grant wishes after all. 

She spoke, and when she mentioned a friend he wetted his lips and inhaled, ears flicking back in disdain when he recognized the scent that lingered about her like a heavy cloud. He'd met others- but they had been quite benign, friendly even. But the one with the sunset eyes was a concern, especially if she'd crossed paths with Widowmaker. He spared a hasty glance to see if she bled, or if even a tuft of fur was out of place, though he didn't want to eye her directly for too long. Her buoyant attitude was enough to tell him she hadn't suffered any serious blows. 

"I have," He assured her, "But not with that one." He said. "How did she treat you?" He asked, curious to see if she treated canines with dark fur as poorly as she spoke about them.