Don't eat the blue ones

Her coy response was received without batting an eye, although Caravaggio's tail wagged a little bit more exuberantly. He approached her without much hesitation and then - plop! - was on his back, his forehead and ears aligned with her own, so that they made a little wolf-to-wolf train. Perhaps it was a strange way to act around a stranger; the way Caravaggio saw it, she was a pack-mate, and a friendly one. Unless she gave him a reason to be more cautious (or if he came to his senses and realized that she was actually a lone wolf), it was always in his nature to be a bit ridiculous. "What are we looking at?" He chortled after a moment, his pale eyes looking up at the bare sky above.