Bitterroot Valley A Strange Kindness

At this playful banter—laced with crude implication—that they shared, Barrett would scoff and shake his head, hiding, ever-hiding, the cacophony of sweet-singing thoughts that lingered deep within.
He wouldn't pluck the feathers from the scruff around his neck. Rather, he'd leave them until he could find the perfect moment to scatter them all around Twitch, just as he had with the spray from the lake sometime prior.
Couldn't handle you? He echoed, followed by something like a scoff, or maybe a jumble of words unspoken that caught in his throat and tore like briars. Still, it sounded primarily of scoff, and his brows shot upwards as he cast Twitch a glance. Not side-long, nor tentative in the slightest, but rather, he ogled quite visibly. Holy, he muttered, looking away and shaking his head with a shocked grin. Fine, you win, princess, his breath almost hitched.
It was boyish, the way he felt. He didn't know how many times he would think the word 'implication', but it seemed that such was the language in which they spoke with one another. Barrett wasn't sure if he could keep up, lest he grow a pair and do say something about it—which was not a plan of his.
His gaze returned to the hare, which he had absent-mindedly been tearing fur from, the hair lingering around his claws, his paws. Shit, he sucked in a breath, releasing it just as quickly in a disappointed sigh. Goddamnit.
He shook his head, looked back to Twitch, and was suddenly unsure on her opinion towards his cursing. Suddenly felt very, very aware of his vocabulary. Still, he said: Reckon I need to do... looked from Twitch to the patch of hair. Anythin' else, he huffed. Walk with me?

i luv them