Otatso Wetlands sandhill

Slowly, Wildflower was getting the impression that this man wasn't the quickest draw in the west. There was some break between mind and reality that took an extra moment to bridge. The part of him that was still Coachwhip didn't doubt he could still do some damage — but, conversationally? Even Wildflower could talk circles around him.

Maybe he would.

The coywolf's tail wheeled in encouragement as the man slowly connected up his dots. Privately, he wondered what sort of picture Tybault made of it — but, since Wildflower was not all too sure about what they looked like either, he didn't hold this against the man.

"Are you alright, cher?" he asked, his voice gentle. He could smell blood on the man, which was not unusual for a wolf, but... "Are you hurt?"