Flycatcher Downs a stunning dress of hellfire

Cole chuckled softly at her shrug, the corner of his mouth twitching in amusement as he glanced back over his shoulder. She had the air of someone who didn’t let much bother her, which he could respect.

Fair enough, he drawled, the southern twang in his voice lilting warmly. He turned his attention forward again, his broad frame cutting a steady path through the snow. Guess that means I get to pick, huh?

His pace didn’t falter as he thought aloud, his amber gaze scanning the horizon. After a moment, he looked back again, eyes narrowing playfully as his brow quirked. How ’bout... Quill? he offered, nodding to the bird perched between her shoulders. Seems like you’re keepin’ some high-flyin’ company there.

Satisfied with his own cleverness, he huffed another soft laugh, turning his attention back to the trail ahead. You don’t like it, you can always correct me, he added with a smirk, knowing full well she couldn’t. The name, for now, would stick.