Sequoia Coast cheerio

the inkslicked raven gratingly laughed at the wolf's roast. "is bartok's dreamy features?" he posed the waggish, rhetorical question as he made his descent abreast of kovacs, strutting to a standstill and hopping around to face him. he contemplated carrying on with the character assassination, but for some reason, found himself at the mercy of intrigue. "if dog collecting scars, this place good for that." he remarked – something of a subtle and admonishing inference coloring his tone.