Hushed Willows I wanna turn the whole thing upside down

Ah, Tybault! Dusty Rose kept his expression serene, his eyes soft and doting in a way that could only truly be derision, based on their history. He offered the other man a pristine flower, aphotic blue eyes blinking sweetly. He might have needled him further if Reina hadn't arrived on the scene, drawing his attention away from the sourpuss and shifting his expression to true, wily delight.

"I've been told I'm a spring," he replied, apparently in agreement as he struck a comically dainty pose. It was at an odd contrast with the often furtive or challenging set of his shoulders — and something only Reverie might recognize from their dancing classes.

Others arrived, and Dusty Rose settled in without making any further nuisance of himself. The gathering's purpose was soon announced, and the coywolf found his tail wheeling in excitement as he contemplated the trip. He hadn't been out and about very much since the kids were born. This would be a chance to stretch his legs — and to see them stretch their very small ones. It didn't strike Dusty Rose as the best or safest idea, but it wasn't as though Reverie couldn't make more of them if they lost a few along the way. These things happened, after all.

He was mad at her all over again for naming them. If she hadn't, he wouldn't be thinking about little Foxglove in particular. He wouldn't have a favorite, and so the idea of losing one wouldn't have made him so sad or nervous.

Still.

"Sure. Count me in," he said with an idle swish of his tail.