The silver white wolf watched with faint amusement at the other wolf with bright eyes of the ocean. The man reminded him strongly of Scipio, his younger brother, although this wolf was probably three years older than him. And it seems that, other than a bit of appearance resemblance, there was nothing in common between his brother of the sea and this stranger. Vale tilted his head sideways, the light catching the scar that marred his face, and deciding that if this male decided to be rude and not greet him, he would greet him instead with a bite. Or maybe not.
"Salve, greetings. May I ask, who are you?" he said politely with a regal dip of his head. It was formal, maybe too formal but it was his way. The mischievous glint was in his eyes, along with Angelus Mortis gleam of a genius or a madman, accompanied by the look that said however bad you think you are, I'm worse and it was true. But he didn't need to know that.
