Luneshale Pass leave the gun, take the cannoli

It was not the wolf she knew, but Verapaz seemed to attract a very specific type – and not just in appearance. Like Kemal, he did not snarl, reprimand her, bend her over the figurative knee to pay for the impertinence of lounging above him. He wanted her name, and asked for it in a way that was vaguely familiar. 

Disa oozed forward until her legs hung straight down with her head between them. She examined the scarred face, the hazy eye, angles that were not quite wolf. "Disa," she replied after a beat, her wide, cat-like eyes fixed on his left. "You sound..." Careful. "... southern, Man Who Does Not Sleep"