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A low rumble of a chuckle fled his lips when the wolfess reached forward to paw at his tail, fiery eyes of amber flickering with a flame of amusement (and appreciation, for laughter was a thing that seemed frequently to flee his grasp). He hummed to himself quietly, genuinly wondering what she thought of it - some thought it was cool but were wary of his background, some were intruiged by it, but some detested how it curled, and how his blood was "tainted" with that of a dog.

"How long have you been in Easthollow?" the enquiry echoed into the air as it entered his head - he'd lost track of time, and it settled like a cold stone in his stomach. His head, as of recent times, had been such a mess, and his thoughts scattered.