Broken Boulder daddy's ghost behind you,

"you, unfriendly?" it was followed with a short, deep laugh. the kind that brought a hint of warmth to dark eyes, a warmth that hadn't danced within for some time. "i reckon that's a sight i'd wanna see." a crooked smirk, the closet he'd get to a smile.

he'd been surprised before—it seemed like the smaller the woman, the greater the fire within them. and she must be quite the little fireball. his posture relaxed, broad shoulders less squared. his docked, short tail twitched with amusement. 

nanuralaaq. dolce wouldn't make a fool of himself, trying to pronounce it. it made him all the more curious—where was she from? it sounded native, like the cherokee tribes that he'd often war with back home.

"nice to meet ya, rala. what's, uh...aggakkut mean?" he butchered the pronunciation. the glimmer in those soft eyes let on enough, though. he found himself graced with a roguish grin. "best not be makin' fun of a man like myself, darlin'." he teased. he reckons she could pick fun at him all she'd like, and he wouldn't mind one bit. "might get'cha into trouble."

she mentioned he wasn't fit for harsh cold like this. "you're right. i'm used to deserts and heat. from the south, lil' place called the heartlands." dolce rumbled. it's all he'd bother revealing—frankly, he didn't want to scare her away by revealing he'd ran with some bad, bad people. 

or that he'd once been a bad, bad man. 

"where did you come from?" he turned the question back to her.