Redhawk Caldera Wilted colors.

Her immediate reaction was to correct him and he knew he'd overstepped, but in his mind there was no difference, and he voiced as much: Mine, yours, ours, its all the same. He draws away from her a little, not wanting to be lashed across the muzzle if he were to say the wrong thing again.

You know what I mean, Towhee. Did Reyes even know what he was talking about? He didn't know what to say that would diffuse her sudden (justified) anger at him. Its a bit of a mouthful. Why can't you take my name instead? You're so hung-up on being a Redhawk; would becoming a Rivaini be that bad? You'd still be both. The kids would still be both.

But he probably wasn't getting anywhere with this. Towhee could be as pig-headed as himself, after all. I didn't mean anything by it. I want to be a good dad to them, because in some part, yeah, they're mine too. As if that helped. It felt like Towhee was the possessive one; but they were growing inside of her and would be born from her, so maybe that was just the way the world worked.

Besides if we really wanted to hyphenate properly, I'm more of a Rivaini—Dahomey, so that'd be... A lot. Here enters a smirk, a cautious one that slides across his face and then off of it again, unsure if he's managed to diffuse the hormone bomb that was his lover.