Firefly Glen [m] revelarlos

absolutely! thank you both for joining!

He’s been spotted.

Mierda.

No time to turn on the charm. Never came naturally to him like it did to the jefes. The boy needed time to remember how to crank his mouth into anything that wasn’t a scowl.

First it’s a woman. He can't make out the stream of young ones at her tail from his vantage in the weeds, and so he thinks maybe his luck has turned afterall. Pretty, real pretty. Old. But he wasn’t all that impartial. Nothing personal, he was a man and a man has needs.

But then comes a man to her side, and so he’s forced to resign that train of thought. He liked a chase but he wasn’t looking to catch his death.

The pause is brief. The dog rises up from the barrage of caws and burr-infested thickets to stand as an uncanny pillar beneath the tree’s shade. A whetted gaze riffles over the kids now, knows how territorial pack wolves are. Let them approach and call the shots– or he'd be deemed the threat he certainly was.

“Hola,” comes dark and guttural out of a throat shredded by the green. Woman wasn’t speaking the common, and unless she knew spanish there'd be no mutual tongue. Didn't matter. Boy knew this song and dance.

“Soy comerciante," he responds again, this time the side of his mouth yanking to reveal yellow-stained canines.