Emberwood There's no such thing as time to kill, nor time to throw away

A half-smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, both at the sudden expanse of pale fur flashing in the sunlight and at the earnest kindness in her voice. Maybe she didn't feel the same as her brother. And maybe her brother didn't care about his blood and he was this kind of asshole to everyone. Maybe — but Dusty Rose was pretty sure he'd recognized the specific brand of disgust the man had for him, even if it was spiced with other exotic flavors of dickery.

"I know," he replied, not wanting to misrepresent his suffering. Maybe for the course of a conversation, but not for her to take away from it. "Don't worry about my self worth. I'm just angry. And if I can't do anything about it, I'd just as soon not be."

His teeth flashed in what might have been a self-deprecating grin — or perhaps it was only preparation for his next move, which was to snap at the paw nearest to him, teeth harmlessly glancing before he shoved his nose under it and flipped it away, pushing it further from his flower pile.

"What's this pack like?" he asked her, his head turning distractedly toward Swiftcurrent Creek's borders. Really, he just needed to look away from Reverie; there has been very few occasions where someone had shown him their belly. It had never been pleasant experience before today — but it still triggered the same urge to lunge for her throat. Not for the kill, this time, he didn't think. Just to see how his jaws fit around her.

He still didn't think that would be very smart or welcome.