Lone Star Mountain diabolico

She muses at his words, trotting forward to stand next to the man. There is no flirtation here, for she has already found another to fulfil that purpose this year; it is only curiosity that brings her forward now. Do you speak French, inconnu? Or are your words only mimickry? Her head is at a tilt as the question is asked. Viskani has missed speaking with her own; her sons are not necessarily the best conversationalists.

The softening of his voice is noted, Viskani eyeing him. Do you have a pack of your own? She asks. Tell me your name, and I will tell you mine.

He is well-spoken, graceful. She wishes for such an influence in her pack.