Wild Berry Meadow Losing Time

He was the type to overthink things.  He wasn't quite to the point of being some huge jock offering some chick a ratty flower, but that wouldn't be too far out of his wheelhouse.  Nah, he was just some scruffy fighter trying to branch into a direction that wasn't anywhere close to how he'd spent the earlier parts of his life.  He wasn't, however, being threatening at all (which definitely wouldn't have been the case if she had traipsed into the Caldera's lands uninvited), and was trying to be friendly mostly by realizing just how much of a doofus he probably seemed like since he was playing things by ear.  Yeah, I get that.  One of these days it'll stop snowing for a while but it doesn't seem to want to right now.  Wasn't it spring yet?  Where was his sun and not-snow?  C'mon, world.

He, too, took a seat, plopping himself down with considerably less elegance, as he was definitely the type who would sprawl a bit without realizing it if he kicked up to a bar. Quixote.  I'm from Redhawk Caldera -- that mountain that looks like someone ate the top of it.  You new to the area or...?  It wasn't like he was familiar with the members of the more distant packs to see if she'd fled from one of them or something.  All he knew is she was alone and hadn't been part of Blackfeather when the war happened.  A lot of wolves did seem to wander on through, though.  He assumed that she'd give her name in turn in a moment, but was speculating that the way to try and maybe win someone over would be to offer a bit more information than asked in hopes of making them more comfortable -- it made sense to him at least.  These whole trips had sort of been experiments when he tried out different things to see what responses he'd get.  Eventually he'd hit a thing that worked, right?

At least he wasn't trying to flirt, really.  That would really be a disaster.  Business before pleasure.