Neverwinter Forest said he was a sailing man

The situation devolved. Catamaran had never been very charming, and he had no hope of managing an interaction with yet another wildcard involved. Frustration filled him, and a kernel of resentment bubbled in his chest like slow poison. The glance he cut to his packmate was empty, but hard.

The bounty hunter's head swung back toward Kinusi as she began to excuse herself. She pulled him after her as if in a splitstream; he dug his claws into the earth to keep from reclaiming the step she'd put between them.

"Another time," he echoed — agreement? Incredulity? It was impossible to tell. He thought of a verse he'd once heard, though the context was lost to him: Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness. Catamaran did not think her self-righteousness was very quenching, but the burn of it went down like hard liquor.

As soon as her back turned, he did take a step after her. Just one.

"Be well, Kinusi," he said, his voice hoarse as he dared to raise it above the conversational level he'd lowered it to. For her.

Then his eyes cut sharply back to his newest friend. They burned like embers beneath his furrowed brow. But his voice, conversely, was gentle when he spoke.

"Diplomacy would have been appreciated," he murmured, too low for Kinusi to hear even if she could understand the northern tongue. "She was only a girl. Children are unruly. But children have parents who lead other packs."

His head cocked, and one ear was cupped toward the other male while the other tracked Kinusi's retreat.