Sunset Valley backbone

A deep flush colored his scar.

In retrospect, he should've known that the question was coming -- after all, it was actually the polite thing for Masque to do, to strike up a symmetric line of inquiry, seeing that they were sisters and respective leaders of their own packs, and everything...

Not yet, he stammered. She, uh, hasn't... y'know.

He felt mortified in all clinical, religious, and colloquial senses of the word.

Conversation with Masque was dangerous, he decided. She had done nothing wrong and it was unfair of him to make such a childish judgement, but he never knew when she would laugh at him, and this chafed at his minuscule but fragile ego.

What was Riley like? Surely someone larger-than-life and overflowing with charisma, much more skilled at social jousting than he could ever dream to be.